Collateral Damage
by SophStratt
Summary: Rachel is a CIA agent. She works with her two best friends, Tuck and FDR, and after a family gathering, both men realize they might love her and wage war against each other in order to win her heart. Who should she choose? FDR, the immature player? Or Tuck, the divorced British dad? It may not matter who she chooses when their lives are on the line with the bad guy out for revenge.
1. Chapter 1

_"Mission is a go. Repeat, you are green to go. Intercept and apprehend the Heinrich brothers. Secure the device. And remember, this mission is covert._" Boss reiterated our mission objective to us via our earpieces.

Our mission was to capture two brothers, Karl and Jonas Heinrich. They were two...very bad men, who were very good businessmen in the wrong kind of business. And we were supposed to bring them in. Everything was planned, and I could only hope it went smoothly. The Boss Lady would roast us alive if we messed this up.

I was already in the club, and had already made a friend with a lovely woman called Xenia. I watched as my partners walked inside, and spotted me. I saw FDR smirk and I knew what was about to happen. They headed over, and Xenia finally took notice of the two attractive men approaching us.

"Those men are walking towards us." She whispered to me, her French accent sounding stronger than it had a moment ago. I smiled at that, and stood up straighter as Tuck and FDR got closer.

"You must relax, Xenia, and follow my lead." I said, before my partners reached us.

They stopped in front of us, and I knew they had their game faces on. Well, FDR certainly had his game face on. I'd seen the look on his face before, when we used to go clubbing together and he'd seen a girl he decided to seduce. Yet he was looking more at me, then at Xenia. I did a mental victory dance as it meant the outfit and wig I'd chosen was working. I was supposed to distract the youngest Heinrich brother, and if I was getting this reaction from Franklin then I was obviously going to complete my part of our plan.

"Hi, my name is Xenia and this is my friend, Britta." She introduced herself, holding her hand out and both of my partners shook it.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Tuck." He said, and I inwardly smiled at the familiar English accent. I loved his accent. It reminded me of old British movies, and Pierce Brosnan. He was my favourite Bond, before Daniel Craig came along.

"FDR." FDR lifted my hand and pressed his soft lips to the back of it, his eyes connecting with mine, showing the mischief in them. I smiled at him, beaming past ruby red lips.

"So what brings you to Hong Kong?" I teased them, knowing full well why we were here and what we had to accomplish, but despite the seriousness of the job, I had to get some fun out of it. "Business or pleasure?"

"Pleasure." FDR replied, winking at me, and I struggled not to blush. I mean, yes I know it's FDR, but he was still ridiculously attractive.

"Business." Tuck corrected him, his head fully in the mission and not much else, though his eyes would stray to me occasionally. I wonder if he liked the brunette wig I was wearing. It was a good wig. You wouldn't be able to tell that it wasn't my real hair.

"A little of both." FDR said.

"What kind of business are you in?" Xenia questioned. I raised an eyebrow at them, waiting to hear their answers which would no doubt amuse me to no end. Tuck crossed his arms over his chest, and FDR smiled at Xenia's question.

"I am a cruise ship captain of a very large vessel. My small friend here is a kick-ass travel agent." He said, and I almost laughed. Yet, I had to stay in role, and as FDR was hitting on me right now, I had to play along. Even if Tuck's expression at FDR's 'small friend' comment made me want double over laughing. It was halfway between pissed and amused.

Yet as I struggled to stop myself from laughing, a pick-up line popped into my head and with a smirk, I said it.

"Permission to come aboard, captain?" I asked, staring up at FDR, who just stared back until Tuck gripped his shoulder, and I grinned at him instead, breaking our eye contact.

"On that note, will you excuse us, ladies, because we do have work to do." Tuck said, giving me a look, which was both amused and annoyed, whilst reprimanding me from encouraging FDR to lose focus.

"No, we don't." FDR said, still staring at me and Xenia.

"Yes, we do." Tuck said, walking away from us, getting into position. I pouted at FDR, seeing that the Heinrich brothers had arrived and had climbed out of their helicopter. The fun was over, and now it was time to get my head in the game.

"Yes, we do." FDR repeated, straightening up, and winking at me, before he too moved away. I turned to Xenia, and smiled at her, and we started to talk again. Heinrich walked past me, and I winked and smiled seductively at the youngest, Jonas, as I caught his eye. He blushed and stumbled, but as the eldest brother turned to glare at me for taking his brother's attention, I was already facing the bar.

_"The way you can turn even the most evil of men to mush with just a wink and a smile will always astound me."_ Tuck's voice said, coming through my earpiece. I smiled, though it would have looked like I was smiling at something that Xenia had said to me. Inwardly though, I was grimacing. My womanly wiles only seemed to work on pretty much everyone but Tuck.

I could hear FDR being hit on by another girl through my ear piece, which made me want to laugh again. That guy couldn't go anywhere without being hit on. Tuck was silent again, but I could see him in my peripheral vision, and I kept my eye on him as I barely paid attention to the conversation I was having with Xenia. I didn't see when the Heinrich's had gone into the guarded room, but I assumed they were already exchanging the money for the device. Collins, the Boss Lady, hadn't even informed us as to what the device was, just that it wasn't safe and we needed to retrieve it.

_"Shots fired. Men down."_ Bothwick informed us via our earpieces.

Seconds later, the Heinrich brothers walked out of the room, with both cases in hand. They were just about to walk past Tuck, when FDR gave us the okay.

_"All right. Here we go."_

I knocked out one of the security guards that walked past me with a punch to his solar plexus, using my other hand to remove his weapon from his jacket. I held it behind my back as I slowly stalked forward. The eldest Heinrich turned around, and fired his gun up into the air, panicking the people at the party, including Xenia. I moved forward quickly, following Tuck and FDR as we chased the Heinrich's onto the helipad. I picked off some of the guards who were watching the helicopter that they had arrived in, diving as Tuck used a sub-machine gun to take out those I missed.

"Mag. I need a mag." I heard Tuck shout at FDR, as I took out the pilot. FDR ran towards him, taking his spare mag out of his top right pocket and handing to him, before taking out another guard. I looked back at Tuck, and he nodded at me, signalling another play. I kicked off my shoes, managing to flick them in the air, hitting one guard in the stomach, and breaking another's nose.

I went to take on Heinrich, with Tuck as my back-up, and I punched him in the face, and kneed him in the stomach, before I let him 'over-power' me. It was the damsel in distress routine. The bad guy gets lulled into a false sense of security, thinking that because I'm a small, dainty woman that I'm not as equipped at handling myself as the others, especially in a small, studded black dress.

"Drop your weapons or I'll make a hole in her pretty little face," He threatened. Tuck and FDR made a show of hesitating, before lowering their weapons but not dropping them. "I said, drop them."

I took that as my cue. I slammed my elbow into his gut, grabbing his hand and wrenching the gun out of it, before I took his legs out from underneath him. Apparently that pissed off his younger brother, who, after being kicked out of the helicopter by Tuck, picked himself up and charged at me. With Tuck distracted by Karl, the eldest brother, and FDR distracted with the remaining henchmen, Jonas and I fought near the edge of the building and when he stumbled, he grabbed hold of me to steady him which resulted in me taking a tumble of the edge. I grabbed onto the ledge, and attempted to pull myself up, but couldn't. I looked up and saw both Heinrich brothers looking down at me. Tuck must have gotten distracted by some of their bodyguards.

"Kill her." Karl ordered his younger brother, passing him a gun. After that, he leaped off the building and pulled his parachute open, gliding away to safety. I noticed Jonas was holding the black case in his other hand. The one with the device inside. The silver case with the money must've been dropped, because money was floating around me because of the helicopter blades causing a breeze.

He seemed hesitant to kill me, maybe because I was a woman, maybe because he thought I was pretty, who knows, but it would work out in my favor. It would buy me time until either Tuck or FDR came to my rescue, which really knocked my inner feminist back a few pegs.

"Rach!" I heard FDR yell, hopefully working his way towards me. I heard gunfire still, which meant that they were still busy. Until it suddenly stopped and Jonas was half-way to falling to his death and I had to let go of the ledge with one hand to catch the case, before we lost the device. FDR was trying to reel Jonas back in, but Jonas ripped FDR's jacket pocket off and he fell. I winced as I imagined the impact of his body hitting the pavement, and closed my eyes for a second to get rid of the mental images.

Tuck's face appeared above me, and I tossed FDR the case, so that Tuck could help me up.

Once I was standing on solid ground again, we watched the scene unfold on the ground below as we caught our breath back. Jonas' body had fallen on top of a car, and people were swarming it now. I winced, before we turned away from it. I tugged off the brunette wig, tossing it away, before shaking my blonde hair free so that it fell naturally around my shoulders. Now my head was a lot less hot, and I felt more like myself again. Being brunette had been fun, but blonde was better.

"Heinrich is not gonna be happy." FDR remarked.

"I'm more concerned about the boss." Tuck replied, and I found myself nodding, kneeling down to grab my heels. Tuck held my hand as I slipped them back on, so I didn't stumble over, and then tucked my hand into the crook of his arm as we walked away. FDR wrapped his arm around my waist, and I did the same.

"Definitely." I said, as I made sure one of the guys had the case. FDR still held it in his spare hand, and I felt myself relax a bit more. At least we still had something to bring back to Collins. We weren't totally screwed.

"Hey, you think that girl is still here?" FDR questioned. Tuck and I exchanged a smile, and I rolled my eyes at him.

"Franklin, I love you, but think with your head for once. Not with what's in your pants. It has led you wrong far too many times for it to be the voice of reason. Need I remind you about Kandahar?" I answered him, earning a laugh from Tuck and a swat on the behind from FDR. I nearly socked him for that, but that was what happened every time I was 'sassy' to him, and when he was sarcastic to me, I slapped him on the back of the head. We had a system.

"What happened to 'Permission to come aboard, Captain?', huh?" FDR questioned.

"That was my character, Britta, talking, dear. I have no intentions of climbing aboard your vessel in the near future." I said.

"So there's hope in the far off future?" FDR joked.

"Sweetie, shut your mouth before I shoot you."


	2. Chapter 2

We had one more night in Hong Kong before we had to fly back to Los Angeles. We spent the day filing paperwork for the local authorities, and signing coroner's reports for Jonas Heinrich's body, and securing the device into a CIA handler's...hands.

But now we were free to do whatever we pleased. I had wanted to lounge about our hotel suite - which had two bedrooms, one with twin beds and one with a double, and you can guess, as I was the only female, who got the double bed all to herself - watching American TV shows in Chinese without the subtitles, and eating copious amounts of room service. Then maybe we'd play some drinking games before we all separated to our different rooms.

Yet I was standing in yet another tight fitted black dress in a different club, watching Franklin dance with some Chinese bimbo who had pounced on him as soon as she'd seen the Rolex I had bought him for last Christmas. Tuck and I stuck to the bar, and, out of instinct more than anything, our eyes scanned the bar for all the exits and any immediate threats. It was FDR's fault we were here, and partly our fault. It was partly our fault as we still had a hard time refusing to go along with Franklin's bad ideas.

But soon FDR was back with us, and had convinced Tuck to go shot for shot with him. I knew that it wouldn't end well if all three of us played, since I would win and no one would be sober enough to steer us back down the road to the hotel.

Soon both my partners were completely wasted, and were leaning on me, as I led them out of the club.

"You know, Rachel, you smell like the beach." FDR announced, rather loudly, as I struggled to keep them both upright and moving forward. I rolled my eyes. So they were at the truth-telling part of inebriation. This would be fun.

"She does! And her hair is so blonde! It's like staring at the sun!" Tuck agreed, and I snorted in amusement. So tonight I smell like the beach, and my hair is so blonde it could blind a person. Hmm...they could have said things that were a lot worse than that.

"Thanks guys."

"Rachel, I love you. You are my best friend, other than Frank." Tuck confessed, and I smiled. I already knew that, but it was still sweet of him to say, even if he was drunk and everything he says should be taken with a pinch of salt.

"I love Rachel too. She's my best friend too! Other than you, buddy!" FDR said, patting Tuck's shoulder awkwardly, as he was leaning around me to do it.

I just rolled my eyes, as I pushed them into the elevator of our hotel building and pressed the button to the floor we were staying at for the night. I leaned them against the walls of the elevator, and rubbed my shoulders to stop them from throbbing too much. Tuck and FDR weighed a lot more when they were drunk, mostly because they acted as though they were dead weight.

Once we were at our floor, I pushed Tuck and FDR into our suite, and helped them get into bed. Once I made sure they had a sick bucket and a glass of water beside them should they need it sometime during the night, I headed to bed myself. I changed out of the second-skin dress and then put my night dress on, and climbed into bed. I didn't feel sorry at all for Tuck and FDR. Tomorrow, they'd be hungover, and there's a chance we'd have to face Collins and her wrath, so to get drunk the night before_ that_ was a stupid move on their behalf.

They would not enjoy themselves tomorrow morning.

* * *

I felt slightly more comfortable now I was back on American soil and wearing my regular clothes. There is nothing better than wearing leather jeans, a loose t-shirt and a leather jacket with my regular boots again. Tuck, FDR and I were headed across the foyer of the agency, joking and poking fun at each other as we often did, when what we dreaded happened.

"Tuck, FDR, Rachel." Boss called, causing us to look up at the balcony to find her. She looked pissed. She gestured for us to go up, and then turned on her heel and strutted away. We all exchanged a look of dread.

"She is going to ground us." I whispered, as we headed up.

"Don't say that. You'll jinx us." FDR replied. And in return I rolled my eyes. We were so grounded. We didn't complete our mission to the mission parameters and Heinrich was gonna be pissed we killed his baby brother. Which would mean he would hunt us down, though hopefully that would take a lot of effort on his part.

"There's nothing to jinx. It was supposed to be covert and we failed on that front completely." I whispered back to him, as we neared her office door. We walked into the office and sat down, with me in the middle of the guys, facing the boss head on. I didn't really like that at all. It was like staring into the eyes of an angry snake, poised to strike and hungry for blood.

"6 men in the morgue. A body in the middle of the street." She stated, bluntly. Getting straight to it was Collins' way. She didn't do polite chit-chat.

"Yes, but to be fair, we did manage to-" Tuck started, until she pointed at him, and told him to shut up. "To-That's me shutting up, right now."

"The mission parameters of the Heinrich case were clearly indicated to be covert," She said, smacking down a photograph, with Jonas' body on top of a heavily damaged car in the middle of a crowded street, onto her desk. I winced. "Thanks to you three geniuses Heinrich will be seeking revenge for his brother's death. You guys are grounded."

"What?" FDR questioned.

"Grounded?" Tuck repeated.

I just took a deep breath and shook my head, not willing to say anything that would make her punish us more. This was going to be torture. Being an agent for the CIA was only a cool, fun job when you were out in the field. No one wanted to be stuck behind the desk if you're a field agent. It was like asking a fireman not to run into a burning building because he was retired. Or expecting Batman not to investigate a crime in Gotham just because it's a little dangerous.

When she let us go, we went to our shared office. Tuck and FDR's desks faced each other, and mine was just beyond theirs facing the entrance to our joint open plan office as it were. It was really private, if I was being honest. The walls were made of glass.

We just sat there for most of the day, bored out of our minds. Tuck spun his gun around on his desk, and Frank just kept tapping a complex rhythm to go with the noise it made. And that's what happened for the next hour. I did paperwork that I needed to catch up on, and occasionally played Doodle Jump on my iPhone, and the boys sat there and huffed about not having anything to do. When FDR started complaining again, I stood up, grabbed my gun and tucked it into my waistband.

"Get up. Let's go." I said, walking round my desk and standing between theirs. They both did as they were told, and I smirked. They were so bored they were actually listening to me for a change. I wondered for a moment what else I could get them to do today.

"Where are we going?" Tuck asked.

"Bring your weapons, boys. Let's go shoot the paper people to relieve some boredom." I smiled, walking in the direction of the firing range.

We spent the rest of the afternoon firing at the targets, trying to best each other, before we finally clocked out and went home.

* * *

It was a boring day, so when I got home, the last thing I wanted to do was nothing, but I didn't really want to go out either. So I settled for making microwave popcorn, popping a movie on and just chilling out in my sweats. I was halfway through being bored to death by the Notebook when my phone vibrated against my leg. I paused the movie and looked at the caller I.D. Tuck was calling.

"This is Rachel Simmonds of Virgin Airlines speaking. How may I be of assistance?" I answered the phone in my best fake overly-optimistic air hostess impression.

"_Why do you always answer the phone like that to me_?" Tuck questioned.

"To remind you that you should never complain about being a fake travel agent. I pulled the short stick here. I mean, come on, air hostess? I knew I shouldn't have tried sarcasm for the first time when they were giving me my fake-real identity," I joked, smiling at the phone as I heard Tuck laugh. "So what's up?"

"_FDR asked me to remind you that Nana wanted you round tomorrow. He said that she said she'll hunt you down if you don't make an appearance._" Tuck said, making me roll my eyes.

"Why on earth would I not show up to Nana's?" I asked, sarcastically. I love Nana, but she was really intense about the romance aspect of my personal life. She was always trying to set me up with people, because she wanted great-grandchildren. I was just not in that place in my life. I mean, I'm an assassin for the CIA. I'm not exactly good mother material.

"_You just don't want her to badger you about giving her some great-grandchildren._" Tuck replied, seemingly psychic today, making me want to club myself to death with the phone while he listened.

"I love the woman, and I'm eternally grateful it was her and my grandpa that picked me up from that foster home but why does she want me to have children all the time? I'm not even dating anybody." I whined down the phone.

"_She loves you and wants you to be happy. It's what we all want, Rach_." Tuck's voice got softer and it almost made me melt into a giant puddle on my couch.

"Stop it with the accent, buddy. You know no American woman can resist it!" I only half-joked to him, grinning again as I heard him laugh down the phone.

"_There's no off-switch, love. Just turn up tomorrow, would you?_" He asked.

"Fine! I'm there, but if FDR forgets dessert, I'm going to kill him. Okay?"

"_I'll hold him down for you, love. See you tomorrow, Rach_."

"See you tomorrow, Tuck." I replied, hanging up the phone.

Suddenly the Notebook didn't seem like a terrible movie anymore. I carried on watching the dumb movie with a giant dopey grin on my face, until my phone rang again. It was my best girl-friend, Lauren. Whenever I wasn't away on 'business' I usually spent time hanging out with Lauren, being one of her subjects at her product control group events, or hanging out a restaurant or bar.

Lauren and Trish, our other friend, were who I hung out with when I need female company. I could have always made friends with some of the women at work, but, believe it or not, Lauren and Trish's normal civilian lives interest me more than talking more about cases we're all working on. Lauren and Trish were like my escape from work.

"What's up, Lauren?" I questioned.

"_Guess who I bumped into yesterday?_" Lauren asked. One of the things I liked about Lauren is she jumped straight into the conversation, and didn't bother with all the pointless chit-chat first. A bit like Collins. Though I appreciate it a little bit more with Lauren than Collins.

"The ex?" I guessed, knowing I was probably right.

"_Guess who he was with_?" She prompted me.

"I'm going with a new girlfriend. Or boyfriend, keeping all options open." I replied, chewing on some popcorn between words.

"_His new perky, gorgeous fiancee. He's engaged, Rachel. Engaged! And I'm still single. You know, Trish suggested online dating, but I don't know. What do you think?_"

I thought about that for a second before I answered. If I at least made it look like I was making an effort to find someone to have her great-grandbabies with, maybe Nana wouldn't harp on about it for an hour tomorrow. Then again, she'd probably ask me word for word what I put down on my profile to make sure I was making myself sound attractive.

"I think it's a good idea. Trish could be having a golden moment." I joked, teasing her about all the times Trish has steered us wrong on nights out. One time she convinced us to go to a gay bar so we wouldn't get hit on, for it to be a lesbian bar and we spent most of the night having to reject women's advances.

"_You think so? Will you sign up as well?_"

"Yeah. If it works out well for you, I might sign up."

"_Have you gotten that friend of yours to ask you out yet?_" Lauren asked me, referring to Tuck. I rolled my eyes. Of course she would bring up a conversation we'd had months ago. She'd gotten me to confess why I hadn't dated anyone in a few months, and now she kept bringing it up.

"Oh look at that, I've got to hang up now." I said, but Lauren started to speak again.

"_It'll happen, I promise. He'd be a fool to not see how beautiful, sexy, smart and charming you really are_." Lauren's words boosted my confidence and ego, and I decided to return the favour.

"Yeah, just like your ex was a blind douche, because he clearly let the best he's ever gonna get slip through his fingers."

"_Thanks, hon. Talk soon?_"

"Yeah, talk soon. Bye." I hung up the phone, and decided to give up on the Notebook and just go to bed. I would need as much beauty sleep as possible to deal with Nana's onslaught of questions about my love life, and the possibility of children in my future.

* * *

It was nice and sunny when I arrived at Nana's the next day. I was wearing a blue bird-print dress with white wedged sandals. I left my hair down, but pulled it back slightly with a length of dark blue ribbon. Nana would hopefully approve. If I had worn the short and tank top combo I had wanted, she probably have murdered me. So I put on the dress to please her.

I climbed out of my SUV, remembering the first time I ever laid eyes on this house. I was twelve and had been bumped from one foster family to the next, but then Nana and Grandpa Foster adopted me, and raised me along with their grandson, Franklin. I remember all the times FDR, Tuck and I spent playing around this house. Smiling I made my way through the house and out the back.

The gathering was in the garden, and I managed to sneak past Nana, for now, and headed towards Tuck and FDR who were sat at one of the lawn tables. They never really conversed with anyone, but each other and me, at Nana's family gatherings. So they would sit themselves at the edge of the party, and people would approach them if they felt like it. Which, admittedly, wasn't often.

"Boys," I nodded to them, as I lowered myself into the chair next to Tuck. They both stared at me, surprise on their faces, and I raised an eyebrow at them. I started to panic. Did I have my breakfast on my face? I mean, I ate granola and fruit for breakfast, but it was still a possibility. "What?"

"You look really beautiful, Rach." Tuck said, making me smile and shake my head.

"Thanks, Tuck," I looked at FDR, and then his hands, and noticed the plate of cake in them. And it was my favourite: gluten-free chocolate cake. How did I know it was gluten-free? Because I used to have small wheat intolerance when I was younger and FDR still buys the gluten-free cake. He was a sweetie like that. Always looking out for me, because he was an orphan and I was as good as one. The two messed-up kids with no one else really but each other. "Where's th-?"

"It's in the kitchen. I hid you a slice. You know where it is." FDR replied, and I quickly got up and raced back inside, heading straight to the pantry, and the small, unused cupboard where my cake was hidden. We always hid stuff there, because Nana never used it. I tore through the kitchen and into the pantry, nearly yanked the cupboard door off its hinges before I found my present. My yummy, gluten-free present.

* * *

**3rd Person P.O.V**

"This is gluten-free. Try a taste." FDR held out his plate towards his best friend, who wasn't really giving him his attention. He was staring at Rachel as she disappeared back into the house in her desperate search for cake. Neither man noticed that Nana Foster had spotted them sitting as close to the edge of the gathering as they could all alone, and had started towards them.

"Why the heck are you two sitting over here all by yourselves?" She demanded, to the amusement of both men. "You're not gonna make me any great-grandbabies this way."

"It is a family gathering, Nana. I don't think you want us making any great-grandbabies today." FDR remarked, smartly, ignoring the sour look his grandmother had given him in return.

"To be fair, I have already provided you with a wonderful great-grandchild." Tuck reminded her, and FDR pointed at him as if to help him prove his point as he chewed his mouthful of cake, and hoping Rachel would turn up to save them from Nana's questions.

"Yeah, but that doesn't count because you screwed it all up."

"Ouch."

And as if she sensed that Tuck had been wounded in some way, Rachel appeared behind her foster grandmother and placed a kiss on the old woman's cheek. Nana turned and took the cake out of Rachel's hand, placing it on the table, ignoring the way Rachel stared at it as if she couldn't bear to have been parted with it. If there was one thing that Rachel loved, it was the cake that FDR always bought for her. And right now, after she tore her gaze away from it, she gave her 'grandmother' a look of pure and utter disbelief, as though she couldn't believe that Nana had parted her from the slice of heaven that she had intended on feasting upon.

"When did you get here, missy?" Nana interrogated.

"I've only just gotten here, Nana. I was getting cake."

"Cake isn't going to help you find a man and give me my great-grandbabies."

"Yes, but it makes me feel better about not providing you with the great-grandbabies you deserve, Nana. So really, the cake is a necessity." Rachel went to grab the cake again, but Nana smacked her hand away from it, making Rachel grumble under her breath.

Thankfully, Grandpa Foster walked over, before Rachel pounced on the old lady for keeping her away from her cake.

"Rachel, sweetheart. What are you doing over here when you could be dancing with me?" The old man asked her, taking her hand and not really giving her much option but to dance with him. Nana, Tuck and FDR watched as Grandpa led her to where other family members were dancing, and continued to watch as they began to dance.

Nana noticed how both her boys watched with avid interest as FDR's grandfather twirled Rachel around, and listened to her laugh as the old man probably cracked a joke. She smiled a knowing smile before she launched an offensive.

"Rachel's a beautiful, smart, single girl. Why don't one of you date her, marry her and give me the beautiful great-grandbabies I want?" Nana asked, clearly shocking the two younger men. They looked at each other, then at Nana, than past her to Rachel.

"Rachel's our best friend, Nana!" FDR protested, even though he wasn't exactly turned off the idea.

"I may be an old lady, but I can still see when my two boys like a girl. And my most special girl, at that. Rachel's one of a kind, and some man's gonna realise that some day and snap her up, then you'll be sorry." Nana warned them, not knowing that she'd just given them both a realisation, and started something she probably shouldn't have.

Rachel and Grandpa Foster walked back over, and Nana dropped the subject for now, letting them think it over. She wanted one of her boys to snap her Rachel up. She'd been praying for it to happen since they were kids, but they never got their acts together. She always assumed it would be Tuck, but FDR had looked at Rachel just a moment ago, the same way his grandpa still looked at her, though little Franklin probably didn't realise he was.

"Nana, my friend is trying to convince me to sign up to this online dating thing. If I do that, can I please eat my cake?" Rachel almost resulted to begging her foster grandmother as she approached the old lady, and her two best friends.

Nana smiled at her, sending a look backwards to FDR and Tuck as if to say 'I told you so', before she answered Rachel's question. They just looked at each other with a look. One that said 'we need to have an intervention for Rachel', because clearly she was desperate enough for cake to upload her personal information onto a dating website.

"Yes, dear. It's a step in the right direction. Eat your cake. Franklin bought it for you." Nana smiled.

"Come on, Lil," Grandpa Foster said, kissing his wife, before taking her by the hand. "Let's show these kids how it's done, huh? Ciao."

Rachel sat back down in her seat, and began eating her cake, smiling as she did so as she watched her foster grandparents dance while looking into each other's eyes. It was so beautiful to see two people still as in love as they were at their age.

"It's kind of gross when they kiss," And then FDR had to ruin the moment as per usual. Rachel shook her head, as she turned her attention onto FDR, knowing that's what he wanted. He looked away from her though, which made her raise an eyebrow. She followed his gaze to one of the cousins' kids running round in a circle with a bucket on his head. "God I love that kid. Hm? Hey? What's going on?"

Rachel turned and looked at Tuck, who was still watching the old couple as they slow danced on the lawn.

"Hey, Mr. Deep-In-Thought. You wanna talk about it?" Frank asked his best friend, both him and Rachel waiting for Tuck's answer.

"I was just-That kind of thing's lovely, isn't it?" Tuck answered, gesturing towards the Nana and Grandpa Foster. Rachel smiled at the sappy romantic that lived within Tuck sometimes. "It's really lovely."

"What's lovely?" FDR questioned. Rachel rolled her eyes. Of course, he didn't get it. He probably didn't really understand romance because of all of his one-night stands leaving him emotionally stunted and unattainable.

"I love the way they look into each other's eyes like that." Tuck explained, and Rachel resisted her inner teenage girl instinct to sigh and say 'Awww….'. Why does every cute thing he says have to be emphasized by his bloody adorable, annoying accent? It was ridiculous, to be honest. Rachel couldn't fathom why Katie had divorced him, because Tuck was a great guy and that accent was amazing.

"I'm pretty sure that's the cataracts." Rachel sighed, and put down her cake, wishing that FDR wasn't so dense sometimes.

"Have you-Okay. You asked him a serious question, Franklin, didn't you?" Rachel questioned, on Tuck's behalf, because it was clear that FDR wasn't getting it. Franklin always seemed to understand Rachel better than most people, though Tuck came a very close second.

"Yeah. Yeah."

"Right. So do you want a serious answer from him?" Rachel pressed.

"Yeah. You guys want me to put the cake down?" FDR asked.

"Please." Tuck replied.

"Okay." FDR did as he was told, and put the plate down onto the table, then leaned forward in his chair to, albeit sarcastically, give Tuck his full attention. Rachel stood up from her chair, tucking it in behind her. Both men gave her questioning looks and she rolled her eyes.

"This is going to be one of your serious 'man chats'. I know when to take my estrogen out of the equation. I'll go and annoy your pregnant cousin's boyfriend until he shouts at me." Rachel explained, walking round the table to kiss the tops of their heads, before she walked away.

"Cake is down, Rachel is gone. Talk to me." FDR instructed.

"Well, no, seriously, man chat. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Man to man. I trust you. I know you'd do anything for me." Tuck started.

"Yeah."

"I'd do anything for you. You would take a bullet for me. I would for you as well, you know that. Right? Can you imagine all of that?" Tuck questioned, referring to 'that' as an empty space between his two hands.

"Yes." FDR answered, looking straight at Tuck

"Can you imagine what that would be like to share with a woman?" Tuck questioned, gesturing once more to the sweet, elderly couple that were still dancing just yards in front of them.

"No."

"Okay."

"No." FDR repeated.

"Thank you."

"Why'd you ask me that?"

"Because I've been thinking a lot about that recently, and realizing that I want to share all that with a woman. And I think I know who with." Tuck said, as he stared over at where Rachel really was annoying FDR's pregnant cousin's boyfriend, and watching as the man really did get angry with her.

FDR followed his best friend's line of sight, and his eyes widened as he spotted Rachel. Tuck and Rachel? He couldn't be talking about Rachel. Not _Rachel._ His best friends...that was just wrong. Right? Right? Besides, Rachel was...Rachel. Nothing romantic would happen between Tuck and Rachel...would it?

Rachel glanced over at them, and saw that her two best friends had finished their conversation and were both looking in her direction, so she made her way back over to them. When she reached the table, she held out a hand. Tuck and FDR stared at her face and then her hand in confusion, before she sighed and shook it around a little.

"Which one of you knuckleheads is going to dance with me? I didn't put on this dress to just sit and eat cake," Rachel said, looking at them both expectantly. FDR and Tuck exchanged a look. "So who's it gonna be? Bear in mind that I'm going to force both of you to dance with me anyway, so it doesn't really matter who goes first."

FDR stood before Tuck did, and he smiled at the grin that spread across Rachel's face. He took her hand, and rolled his eyes at her as she fist pumped the air in victory.

"See! It's not so hard to make your best friend happy now, is it? Tuck, once this dance has finished I expect you to come and cut in!" Rachel said to the British man over her shoulder as FDR led her to the area that everyone was dancing in. A slow song was playing as he pulled her close to him, and she rested her head on his shoulder as they swayed to the music.

Nana saw that her little Rachel had convinced young Franklin to dance with her, and saw how adorable they looked together. She nudged her husband and they both watched as their grandson twirled their ward around the grass, listening to the woman's peals of laughter.

And once the song had ended, they watched as their grandson's best friend took his place, and danced Rachel around in circles. Nana concluded that Rachel was the perfect thing for both of those boys, she seemed to balance them both. She was fiery enough to contrast Tuck's calm nature and she was serene and graceful enough to combat Franklin's stubbornness. Nana smiled to herself. Whichever of the two boys woke up and saw how wonderful and beautiful Rachel was, Nana was sure she would have adorable great-grandbabies.

But dancing with Rachel, and Nana's words, set something in motion for both men, and it would be the start of something big for all three of the spies. Something life changing, and dynamic altering.


	3. Chapter 3

The day after Nana's family party, I thought I'd visit my godson Joe, Tuck's son, at his karate lesson. I was running a little late, but I arrived in time to see Tuck get his ass smacked by the instructor. Tuck straightened up, having to look up at him to stare him down. For a moment, I wondered whether or not Tuck would break cover and just punch the guy in the face. I mean, I would. The guy was begging for it. But I dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. Tuck was the responsible one, most of the time. He wouldn't break his cover especially with Joe in his life.

"Pain? That's just weakness leaving the body." The instructor told him, just before he slapped Tuck round the face. I knew that if Tuck wasn't trying to keep up his 'travel agent' persona, he would have showed that ass the real meaning of pain. I mean, if I wasn't portraying a "air hostess" than I would have kicked his ass for him. And then he would have his picture taken, with his face all bruised and bloody, and they'd paste it next to the definition of pain in every dictionary in the country.

I watched as Joe stood up from the bench he was sat on, grabbing his bag, and shaking his head at the poor display we both watched. Tuck sheepishly followed after him, and I couldn't help but frown at that. You know it's a bad day when your son is ashamed of you.

Joe spotted me in the hallway, and dumped his bag on the floor for his dad to pick up. Joe seemed so pleased to see, judging by the giant grin on his face as he hurtled towards me like a bat out of hell.

"Rachel!" Joe called. I bent down and caught him in my arms, lifting him up and squeezing him to me, before I set him down on his feet again. I grinned at the kid, who looked so happy to see me. Me and Joe were close. On some of the days that Tuck had Joe, we'd all hang out, eat pizza, make fun of FDR, and just have a laugh. Joe was my little man. I'd watched the kid grow up, and loved him to pieces.

"What are you doing here?" Tuck asked, smiling at us.

"I was going to watch my little man kick some butt, but traffic held me up," I said, straightening up to talk to Tuck. He obviously knew that I saw the little 'confrontation', if you could even call it that. Tuck didn't stand up for himself whatsoever. Not even verbally. It was a sad sight, if I was honest. "So how did it go?"

"I got creamed." Joe sighed, looking sad. I placed my hand on his shoulder, and rubbed it to comfort him.

"I'm sure you didn't get creamed. And each defeat just sets you up to the inevitable victory, you understand? You may have lost today, but you're getting closer to winning." I said, as we walked out. I looked over at Tuck and he was smiling this big, dopey smile, and I smiled back at him, feeling slightly confused.

A car pulled up in front of us, and Katie, Tuck's ex-wife and Joe's mom, smiled at us from the driver's seat.

"Hey, guys." She greeted. She didn't seem surprised to see me there, which was weird, because I didn't always have time to come and see Joe in his karate lessons, so this was the first time in a few months that I had showed up to support my godson. She just smiled at me warmly. Katie and I had always gotten along when she and Tuck had dated, but things got a little weird when they were married. It was sort of like she had just flipped a switch and didn't like me as much as before.

"Hey." Tuck and I replied in unison, and I mentally laughed out loud. You can't plan those sorts of things, they just happen.

"Hey, bud." Katie addressed Joe, who climbed into the car.

"Hi." Tuck passed him his gym bag, and closed the door behind his son, before he talked to Katie about something. Her eyes flashed to me as they spoke, but I knew I couldn't ask Joe for the details because he was listening to his music now. As soon as their conversation was finished, Tuck walked back to me, looking like he needed to talk. I knew it was nothing too bad, since he still had that dopey grin on his face.

"What's up?" I asked him.

"Why don't you and me go out for dinner tonight?"

And just as something amazing was about to happen, my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I held up a finger towards Tuck, pausing our conversation while I accepted the call.

"Hello?"

_"Don't hate me, but Trish signed me up to this dating site, so I kinda did the same for you._"

"It's not April Fools Day, so tell me you've become a day drunk, or this is a very lame attempt at a prank?" I questioned Lauren, while Tuck stared at me in confusion. I shook my head, not knowing what was really going on myself. Lauren had to be joking...right? She wouldn't sign me up for online dating. I only told Nana I'd do that to get my cake. I wasn't actually going to go through with it! I was just going to tell her I had gone through with it, so she would stop annoying me, and then if she did, I was going to say that no one had asked me out and that's why I wasn't getting married or having children.

"_You haven't been on a date for months, Rachel. You need to get out there. Besides, you've got a date tonight, and you're showing up for it._" Lauren told me, and I felt my jaw scrape across the ground as the shock hit me. I've got a what? A date? Why would she do that to me?

"You did not accept that. Tell me you didn't just do this to me?" I hissed down the phone at her, and I could practically picture her affronted face, before she got all serious and micro-manage-y on me.

"_I did. It's for your own good. So come round my place, I'll pre-approve your date outfit, and then send you on your way. It's at six, at that new, little Mexican restaurant. You know the one?_" Lauren asked, and I thought about it. I did know that restaurant. It had just opened a few buildings away from Tuck's favourite bar, The Blarney Stone, and it had gotten some good reviews from some posh, stuck-up food critics.

"Yeah, I know it. You're so lucky that we're friends, because if it were anybody else, they'd be dead right now. I'm only doing it because you went through all this trouble." I said, sighing in defeat. I really hated blind dates. I'd gone on enough of them because of Nana always setting me up. They never went right.

"_I do it because I love you, Rach. And I want you to be happy_." Why was everyone saying that to me recently? First Tuck and now Lauren? Did I come across as lonely and unhappy? Maybe I needed to smile more and people would stop annoying me about settling down.

"Yeah, yeah, I love you too. Bye, Lauren. I'll see you later." I hung up the phone, and groaned. Why did she do this to me?

Tuck stepped forward and rested his hand on my arm, trying to comfort me but still looking confused as to why. I smiled at him, trying to shake off my bad mood, but it didn't stop him from asking what had soured my previously good mood.

"What's wrong?" Tuck questioned.

"My friend, Lauren, signed me up for that online dating thing and got me a date for tonight, and is making me actually go on it. He's probably going to be this giant loser, but what the hell. Maybe I'll get a free dinner out of it," I said, smirking deviously. Tuck just stared at me. "What?"

"You don't date." He replied, matter-of-factly. I chuckled at his response, when his words kind of stung at the same time.

"I do when I have time. And since we're grounded, I have time. It'll get Nana off my back about finding a husband, if I'm actually dating, won't it? I guess there's an upside to having a freak for a friend."

"I'm calling FDR. We'll go with you." Tuck actually pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled FDR's number before I could say anything, so I crossed my arms over my chest, and waited. He put FDR on loudspeaker and held the phone out between us.

"_What's up, man?_"

"Hey, mate. What do you think of this? Rachel signed up for online dating and has a date tonight." Tuck told him. I scoffed, and moved closer to the phone, so Franklin could hear me properly.

"I didn't sign myself up. My friend did." I corrected Tuck, sending him a dark look. He just ignored it and waited for FDR's response. Why did this matter to Tuck anyway? We were just friends, and he's never shown an interest in my dating life before now. So what was with the change?

"_Let me get this straight. You put your personal, private details on a very public website?_" FDR asked, and I felt like hitting him through the phone like in the cartoons. I face-palmed myself and

"Do you not listen to me, Franklin? My friend put them on the website, but yes."

_"Are you insane?_"

"Thank you, mate. That's what I was thinking!" Tuck said, and I punched him on the arm. Who were they to question my mental faculties? They were probably just as crazy as I was, if not more crazy. I mean, what went down in Bangladesh wasn't my idea, after all.

"No. I'm not." I answered.

"_Where is he taking you?_" FDR questioned.

"You guys are not doing this to me. No. Do you hear me, Franklin? Tuck? NO."

"He's taking you to that new Mexican restaurant. New does not equal good! Here's how it's going to go down. You're going to go on this date and we're going to go with you." FDR said, and made me want to reach down the phone and strangle him. I groaned with frustration.

"No, you're not." I said, frowning.

"Yes, we are." Tuck replied.

"_I'm scared for you. You haven't done this in a long time. This guy could be all sorts of crazy. And besides, half of these guys pee sitting down, and the other half are on one of our watch lists._" I laughed at him. He had a point. That was one of the reasons that I hadn't actually signed myself up for online dating. You don't know the kind of person you could be meeting, because it's very easy to lie on these sites. And Lauren and I watched an episode of Dateline once and I did not want to be turned into a skin suit...or tied up naked in some guy's trunk.

"It sounds like you're making this a forbidden fruit thing, which just makes me want to do it more," I joked, and Tuck stared at me, like I was going crazy. I rubbed his arm to comfort him, and patted his back with my free hand. "It's just a date guys."

"_Look, lucky for you, I'm free tonight. And I'm gonna bring the binoculars, the hand cream…_" I made a noise of disgust, that mirrored the disgust on Tuck's face. I gave him a look that said 'this is all on you, blabbermouth', and he shrugged. "_We'll keep a hundred-yard radius. It'll be sweet stuff_."

"No, you can't bring the binoculars. You're not watching my date. That's so creepy." I said, trying to reprimand him, but I knew it wouldn't work. They were going to come and re-con my date whether I wanted them to or not. They were just looking out for me.

"_Let us help you out, Rach_."

"Franklin, I lived with you for almost eleven years. It's wrong. I need a little privacy."

"_We'll be around the corner on ringtone. We'll be at that video store that's near there. One ring means you need an extraction, two, a cleaner, three, we can go home._"

I stayed quiet a moment, and stared at Tuck while I thought it all through. They'd never really paid much attention before to my dates…that I was aware of. Maybe they did. Maybe that's why I never got a second date. I knew it wasn't me. It was these two over-protective buffoons trying to do what's 'best' for me.

"Two hundred yards."

"_Sold_!" FDR hollered down the phone. He was such a dork sometimes, but we still love him. Mostly. Sometimes.

"If I like him, do you guys promise not to screw everything up for me?"

"What do you mean screw everything up for you?" Tuck questioned.

"Because I just realized why I never get date two. It's not me. It's my two over-protective, Neanderthal-esque, self-appointed body-guards who terrify guys away from me. If I tell Nana this, she will be sooooo pissed. Like wear your guts for garters pissed."

_"Ew. That is not a great mental image. We promise, as long as he's not a creep. You're attracted to those. You're like a bad guy/creep magnet._" FDR said, and I felt a small bubble of outrage rise up in me.

"I am not! I've dated plenty of good guys." I protested, trying to rack my brain for examples, but I couldn't think of one good guy that I'd had a serious relationship with. I would have said Jason, but he cheated on me with Marcie Paxton (she used to hate me but after sleeping with my boyfriend decided that I was not so bad). Then I thought of David, but he got arrested and imprisoned on a GBH charge. The next person I would have said would be Paul, but that bastard cheated on me too with a waitress.

"_Name five, Rach._"

I thought harder about it, and I could see the amusement grow on Tuck's face as I obviously struggled with it. I sighed and shook my head.

"I can't name one. So compromise. If he's a good guy, and I like him, don't scare him away. If he's a bad guy, and I still like him, feel free to dive in and save me from myself," I replied, rolling my eyes as I spoke. "But you've got to remember that I'm a big girl, and I can take care of myself. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to stop being Rachel the spy, and be Rachel the girl and go freak out over having no clothes in my very full wardrobe. Bye, FDR! Bye, Tuck."

I kissed Tuck on the cheek, and walked to my car, and when I drove past Tuck, he was still on the phone, which meant he was planning something. I shook my head, but smiled. I couldn't get Tuck's jealous face out of my head. He was jealous of some random guy neither of us had ever met because he was taking me out instead of him. It was cute, and instilled a new sense of hope in me. I had developed a crush on Tuck a few months ago. It was just like one day I realized how much I liked him. And then there was FDR. But I don't really want to over-complicate things by feeling romantic feelings for both my partners. That just wouldn't end well for anybody.

* * *

I went to Lauren's at around five with two outfits for her to pick from. She picked the blue dress, because and I quote 'it brings out your eyes', and the black heels with a black clutch. It was dressy enough for a restaurant, but casual enough that I could be working at an office.

Then she sent me away, satisfied that I would in fact be going on the date, and looked good enough for some guy she told me about in about ten minutes. His name was Lloyd Turner. He was 30 years old. He worked as an agent for models. And apparently was looking for love. I rolled my eyes at that. He was a modelling agent, and had probably slept with a few of his clients. Why would he be looking for love?

Nevertheless, I still went, catching a cab so I could drink a lot if the date went terrible. I walked towards the restaurant. It was a nice place with a few tables outside for those who wanted to enjoy the sun. I quickly scanned the people sat outside for the guy Lauren had showed me a picture of, and found him. He was sat at the table closest to the sidewalk.

"Lloyd? Are you Lloyd?" I questioned, taking off my sunglasses as I approached his table. "I'm Rachel."

He was cute, but he was no Tuck or FDR. He _was_ ridiculously hot, but he looked like a surfer with slightly long blonde hair, big arms and perfectly sun-kissed skin, but I wasn't really into that. Lloyd seemed to be stunned or something, and kinda stared at me for a second, before he stood up, taking his sunglasses off, and spoke.

"Hi. Erm, god, sorry, please sit down," He said, pointing to the empty chair opposite him. I sat down, smiling at his nervousness. "I have to say this, Rachel, you are very, very beautiful."

"I thought you worked with models all day? How could I compare to all the beautiful women you get to see half-naked every day?" I teased him.

"Most of them are half-starved and look like a tiny gush of wind could rip them in half. It's not always a glamorous life, but you are beautiful. Have you considered modelling?" Lloyd questioned, and I figured he was just flattering me to get something out of the date, but I was not that kind of girl.

"No. I'm quite happy with my job. Free flights anywhere I want and I get to travel the world," I smiled, and then leaned forward. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

"What was it on my profile, which my friend made for me, that made you ask me out? Be honest. I won't judge. Much." I questioned. Lauren wouldn't show me my profile, and I assumed it was because I would have killed her for putting something I never would have said or something I've never done.

"Actually, it was a combination of your profile picture where you were on the beach in a bikini, the fact you're an air hostess, and she mentioned that you were the national junior gymnastics champion in your teens. My sister used to do gymnastics before she had a horrible fall during a routine." Lloyd admitted, and I nodded, mirroring his sad look. The whole story could be BS and he's trying to get my pity so he looked like a good guy, but it might not be. Yet there was something wrong with this guy and it wasn't the fact that he had jerk nails. I just didn't feel...right sitting across from him, but for the sake of Lauren and Nana, I stayed where I was and gave the guy a chance. I could always do a background check on him tomorrow at work.

"Gymnastics isn't an easy sport. Anyway, I feel as though I should apologize for anything bizarre on my profile. My friend Lauren was trying to do me a favor…we'll have to wait and see if it backfired on me."

"Do you think it's going to backfire on you?" Lloyd questioned, raising a perfect eyebrow. Oh god, he's a groomer. Like one of those meticulous guys who plucks their eyebrows, waxes their chests and arms and hands, probably his legs too. That kind of thing creeps me out.

Yet I stopped myself from dialing Tuck's number for an extraction, because I knew I was jumping the gun a little here, and I should probably give Lloyd a chance.

"I hope not." I replied, smiling at him.


	4. Chapter 4

Tuck and FDR were waiting for Rachel's phone call in the video store. Tuck was browsing through movies they could watch on the off chance that Rachel's date bombed and she needed some comforting, and FDR was browsing through the women in the store, and not finding any to his liking. It was a slow night.

Tuck's phone rang, and both men froze, as they counted the rings. One...Two...Three. Tuck and FDR exchanged a look, before sighing simultaneously. They weren't happy with this at all. I mean, this was Rachel. _Rachel. _She didn't date, and if she did, FDR and Tuck always scared them off afterwards, because they were always bad news. She didn't seem to have a radar that warned her away from the jerks or crazies. One of her exes had actually been incarcerated for almost beating another man to death just because he looked over at Rachel in a bar. Tuck was surprised that Rachel thought that this guy was okay, but that was her choice.

"Good for her." FDR muttered, not really meaning it, and Tuck nodded at him.

"I think I'm gonna head home, mate. See you later." Tuck said, walking away and not giving FDR a chance to say anything back, before he disappeared up the escalator that led out.

FDR was a little annoyed at the guy he'd never met. Rachel was almost definitely too good for him. He wouldn't know that she used to be wheat intolerant and that she was still a little bit sensitive when she ate it. He wouldn't know that she almost went to the Olympics as an elite gymnast when she was sixteen. And what kind of name was Lloyd? Seriously? Lloyd? And ever since his Nana had mentioned it, dating Rachel had made a little more sense. No woman knew him better than Rachel. And she was beautiful, smart, funny, caring, practically fearless, and she loved all the movies he did. Apart from the Titanic. She never understood why Jack couldn't fit on the door at the end of the movie. Yet he couldn't make a move on her. It was like he was paralysed. So he just kept adding to his list of one-nighters instead.

FDR stayed, waiting for a woman he could take home to arrive, and he waited a good hour, before he spotted Rachel coming down the escalator. She hadn't spotted him yet and, while she didn't look like she'd just been on the worst date of her life, she didn't look like she'd had the best first date of her life. And then she saw him, staring up at her, and she smiled like her night had just gotten a little better. FDR would never understand why she looked at him like that, because, now that he thought hard about it, she always looked at him like that when she saw him. Like her days were just that little brighter with him around.

She walked towards him, and sighed through a chuckle, which really didn't help him understand how her date had gone. Was the chuckle a good sign? Was the sigh a bad sign?

"How did it go?" FDR asked her, as she started looking through movies. She gingerly picked up a silly tween movie, tutting at it in disapproval before she replaced it back on the shelf and wiped her hand on her dress as though the movie had germs on it.

"It wasn't bad exactly. At first, I thought we kinda hit it off, but then he started asking me if I wanted to settle down, what area do I think I'd want to live in, how many kids could I see myself having. Questions that just aren't first date material. So I made an excuse and came running here," She looked around, seemingly searching for someone, before she turned back to him. "Where's Tuck?"

"He went home. Let's pick out a movie, and we'll go drop by his place to hang out." FDR replied, a little annoyed that she was concerned with Tuck's whereabouts when he was right there.

"Why are you still here?" Rachel questioned, glancing around before the realization set in and a knowing smile grew on her face. "Pickings are slim tonight, huh?"

"You could say that."

"I am here for you, Franklin. I shall replace Tuck as your wing-man. I can't say I can beat a British accent, but being a member of the opposite sex, I know what a woman is thinking," Rachel said, her eyes scanning the video store, scouting for any attractive women for FDR. Admittedly, there were a few, but none that she really approved of. And she wanted nothing but the best for her Franklin. "The girl over in Foreign has far too much angst. Girl in the sweet home-maker sweater will be naming your children by morning. There is no clean getaway here."

"It's fine. We'll grab a movie and go to Tuck's. I think I can rest a day, Rach." FDR said, wanting nothing more than to just go to Tuck's with Rachel and a movie, and hang out. Or maybe go to his place with Rachel and a movie. Tuck didn't have to be there. And with the thoughts now running through FDR's mind, he would prefer that his male best friend wouldn't be there.

"I'm wondering…how do you even pick a girl up at the video store?" FDR watched as a devious smile spread across her pink lips, and something flashed in her eyes as she stared at him. "Show me."

"Show you?" He asked, not really understanding what she wanted from him. She couldn't want him to hit on her...could she? That would be too...fantastic.

"Show me how you pick up women in a video store. Practice your charm on me." Rachel instructed him. FDR blinked at her in shock. She wanted him to what? Hit on her? Treat her like one of the other girls? He couldn't do that. Rachel wasn't one of the other girls. She was...Rachel.

"I don't think I can do that, Rach. You know me." FDR replied, trying to get the idea out of her head.

"I don't have to know you. Pretend I'm like any other girl. We've never met, and you see me picking out a movie, and you think I'm hot and I'm the best the video store has to offer, so you walk over and hit on me, hoping to take me home," When FDR shook his head, Rachel laughed and swotted his arm. FDR just stared at her as though she was joking about the whole thing, and Rachel continued. "Use your imagination, Franklin. Think of it as a game that you have to win. You see I'm not convinced, despite your track record, that you are that good at picking up women."

Rachel walked away, and began to browse the movies in the drama section. She reached out to pick up a film, but a hand grabbed it at the same time.

"I'm sorry. You-" She looked up, and saw that it was FDR.

"No, no, no, that's okay. You take it." FDR said to her, going along with her little idea. Rachel realized this, and smiled briefly before she put on her game face.

"Are you sure?" She asked, widening her eyes slightly.

"You know, you're not gonna like it. Twist ending. You'll see it coming a mile away." He replied.

"And how would you know what I like, stranger?" Rachel teased him.

"I know movies. And women." FDR smiled at her, and Rachel could see how that smile had gotten many women into his bed. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Really?" Rachel questioned, and FDR responded with a noise of agreement. "Okay. Well, then, why don't you tell me what I want?"

Rachel sauntered away from him, and he followed, putting his hand on the small of her back (Rachel, for a brief second, felt like the place where his hand rested was on fire, but it soon disappeared) and steering her in the direction he wanted her to go. She watched as his eyes scanned the shelves stacked with films of every genre, before he stopped her. He grabbed a movie off of the shelf and passed it to her. Rachel scrutinized it, wondering why he had picked this particular movie.

"_The Lady Vanishes?_ Why is that?" Rachel asked him, looking from the case up to FDR.

"Well, firstly, you can never go wrong with Hitchcock. Ever. It's got comedy, drama, romance, it's a thriller. It's classy, but not stuffy. And it's a little obscure, so if you haven't seen it, you'll thank me for introducing you to it," FDR explained, staring down at Rachel with his blue eyes, knowing the effect they had on all women, and Rachel smirked up at him. He wasn't sure if it was a good smirk or a bad smirk.- "And if you have, you'll know what a good choice it was."

"Well, I have seen it." Rachel replied.

"Mm-hm." FDR moved closer to Rachel so there was only a narrow gap of air between them. He was so close that he could smell the perfume she was wearing, which was great.

"And it is a good movie."

"Mm." FDR replied, a smirk on his face. He was winning this game that she created, and hopefully he'd get a good prize for doing so. He shook his head, as his thoughts went down a very interesting road again.

"However, not as good as_ Rebecca, Notorious, Vertigo_…or pretty much any of his movies from 1960 to 1972," Rachel smiled in victory, as she watched the smirk on FDR's face dwindle into a frown at her knowledge of Hitchcock movies, and how his charm hadn't actually worked on her. "In fact, it's sort of a second-tier title."

"A second. You know what? Scratch-" Rachel cut him off.

"You almost had me, FDR. I'll admit that. It was a real eye opener to see you in your real habitat. Thanks for helping me pick out a movie. You should stay here though, while I go to Tuck's. A bleach blonde with great legs just walked in, and she looks vulnerable. Happy hunting, darling."

She kissed him on the cheek, and went to pay for the movie. On her way out, she could see that FDR had yet to go talk to the blonde, who was throwing him 'come hither' glances and not being very subtle about it. So Rachel took matters into her own hands. As she walked past the blonde, she stopped and tapped her on the shoulder. The blonde turned around.

"Hi. Sorry to bother you, but I saw you looking over at tall, dark and handsome. I was talking to him earlier when you walked in, and he said you were the prettiest woman he's ever seen. I think you should go talk to him."

"Really? He doesn't look like the kinda guy looking for a relationship though, does he?" She replied, glancing over at him again. Rachel followed her gaze and saw that FDR was looking over, with a somewhat confused expression. Rachel subtly winked at him, before turning her attention back to the blonde who was still checking him out.

"Believe me, I know his type. He is not just interested in a one-night rental, if you know what I mean. You should give it a chance." Rachel secretly thought that the blonde didn't really look like she was interested in a relationship, and more the one-night rental person herself. The blonde nodded and thanked her, before walking in FDR's direction.

Rachel caught his gaze one last time, saluting him with a smirk as she turned and walked out.

FDR couldn't stop thinking that Rachel hadn't fallen for his charm, like most women, and why that was. He'd talk to Tuck tomorrow about his feelings for Rachel. Tuck was good with all the emotional feelings stuff. This required a man-to-man chat, but he was pretty sure what he wanted now. And it wasn't the blonde he was barely listening to, it was the blonde he was watching disappear up the escalator. He'd never really seen a woman as perfect before, but if anyone was, it was Rachel Simmonds. And now he was determined to make her see that he could be just as perfect for her.

* * *

Tuck was watching T.V in his apartment, working his way through a large packet of Cheetos when his doorbell buzzed. He begrudgingly got up off his couch to open his door, when he was suddenly glad he did. Rachel smiled at him, holding up a movie and a bag of sweet popcorn, and brushed past him into his living room. Tuck watched her, half amused and half confused as she kicked off her shoes and pretty much jumped onto his couch.

"How'd the date go?"

"I don't think I'll be going out with him again." She replied, dropping the popcorn and the movie on the floor, and popping one of his Cheetos into her mouth. Tuck moved back to his couch, and sat down next to her. She immediately swung her legs round and laid them across his lap, like she'd done a million times before. Except this time, Tuck was really paying attention to how long and toned her legs were.

"Why's that?" He questioned, feeling a lot better seeing her come back from her date early.

"He really was looking for a serious relationship, but he took it to new levels of crazy. The first date isn't when you plan your wedding," Rachel looked over at Tuck, with a disturbed look on her face. "Plus, he was a groomer. And he had no tattoos. He even told me he thought tattoos were disgusting. I mean, how can someone think that? Tattoos are hot. But I think the reason we didn't really click, was because of the groomer thing. His eyebrows were better than mine, Tuck!"

Tuck burst out laughing at her description of the guy, and as much as she tried not to, Rachel ended up laughing with him at her misfortunes. It was quite funny looking back on it. It made for an uncomfortable date at the time though.

"So it was a bad date?"

"It wasn't that bad, but it was not great. I kinda wish that I'd just called in for an extraction and come back here and watched movies with you, but if I'd done that I wouldn't have had an enlightening experience." Rachel replied, confusing Tuck again.

"What enlightening experience?"

"I went to the video store, and FDR was still there, scouting for a bed warmer, as per usual, but pickings were slim. So I got him to hit on me. I've always been curious about how he manages to do it. So he did, and it was an interesting experience, but I'm chalking most of his success up to the lowering IQ rate of women in Los Angeles," Rachel grinned at Tuck, who smiled back. "I'll admit I almost fell for the FDR charm, but he doesn't have a British accent, so he probably should have worked harder."

Tuck chuckled at that. Ever since they had met, Rachel had loved his British accent. He couldn't fully understand why, but she did. And she managed to bring it into nearly all of her compliments towards him.

"He can blame you for that. Ever since I met you, your annoyingly charming accent has been the deciding factor of all my brief relationships."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I have a scale of how great someone is. One being the equal to the thing I hate most; men who are practically metro-sexual. Ten being equal to the thing I love most; the British accent," Rachel explained, putting a giant grin on Tuck's face. Rachel climbed off the couch to put the DVD into the player. Tuck couldn't help but stare at her ass, or arse as they would say in Britain, as she was bent over, but quickly dragged his eyes away as she straightened up and moved back towards him. "FDR did help me pick out a movie. _The Lady Vanishes_. Have you seen it?"

"I don't think so."

"It's a good Hitchcock movie. Not one of his best, but still good." Rebecca said, curling up into Tuck's side, pulling his arm around her and resting her head on his shoulder as the movie started.

Tuck was elated that her date with the pushy, groomer Lloyd hadn't worked out, that she'd rather have spent her night watching movies with him. Tuck had realized that he had feelings for Rachel when Nana had mentioned about dating her. Honestly, now that he thought about it, who could ever be better for him? No one, not even FDR, knew him better than Rachel. Joe loved her. Even his ex-wife would comment on how pretty, funny or nice Rachel was, probably hinting at something all along. Plus Rachel was beautiful, smart, funny, caring, practically fearless and loved all the same music as he did. Except she always called him cheesy for liking his favourite bar, The Blarney Stone. They made a good team, and she had a way of reading his body language or his face to know what he wanted when they were in the field. Or even when they weren't.

The fact is Rachel Simmonds was his perfect girl, and he'd only just realized it.

"What are you thinking about so hard? I can practically smell your hair burning." Rachel asked, looking up at him.

"Nothing."

"If you say so, babe, but you know I'm always here for you to talk to. Day or night."

"I know. Thanks."

"It's no problem. You'd do the same for me." Rachel smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek, before nestling back into his side and returning her attention to the movie and the popcorn in her hand.

Tuck shook his head. Yes, Rachel Simmonds was his perfect girl. Now he had to make her see that he was her perfect guy.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day I went to work feeling pretty Zen. I'd had fun with FDR and then Tuck last night. In fact, I'd enjoyed myself so much with my two best friends that I'd almost forgotten I'd even had a date with that guy last night. What was his name again? Luke? Lewis? Lloyd? Lloyd! I had a date with Lloyd last night.

When I'd gotten back to my place, he'd left a message on my machine telling me how great it had been to meet me, and wondering if we could meet up again soon. I was going to do a background check on him when I got to work, to see if he had any red flags, to see if he would potentially stalk me if I didn't call him back. He came on far too strong, to be fair, and I wasn't attracted to him.

But other than that small worry, I walked into work feeling practically stress-free. I headed to my desk and walked in on the end of a conversation between Tuck and FDR. I assumed it was the end because it didn't make much sense otherwise.

"So we have a gentlemen's agreement?" FDR asked.

"A gentlemen's agreement." Tuck agreed.

"Do I want to know what that's about?" I questioned as I stopped just in front of their desks.

They both looked at each other, and nodded in agreement to some unspoken conversation.

"No." They both said at the same time, neither of them actually looking at me, which immediately set off my BS detector. They were hiding something from me, and they knew that it was going to bug me. We had a full disclosure agreement. We never kept anything from each other, nothing, and we functioned better as a team because of it, but they were hiding something from me.

"O-kay." I shook my head, shaking away my confusion. They'd tell me in their own time what was going on, and if not then I'd kick their asses.

Nothing would stress me out today, not even my two best friends acting weird, and shooting me glances every five seconds as I worked on more of my paperwork. I remembered to do a background check on Lloyd, and loads of red flags popped up, much to my surprise.

"Oh, God." I accidentally said out loud, as I read through all of his offences. They were pretty bad. Like 'Oh my fucking God' kinda bad. Like an episode of CSI: Las Vegas bad.

"What?" FDR questioned, as both he and Tuck looked up at me with concern. I looked up from the screen of my computer, my face frozen in shock, and I pointed at the screen frantically.

"I think I'm finally grateful for being so picky with men." I replied finally.

"Why's that?" Tuck asked, as he and FDR rose from their seats to come and inspect the files on my computer that I was still pointing at.

"Lloyd Turner was questioned about being apart of a woman trafficking ring, and still remains a suspect. Oh God, I could have ended up in some crack den somewhere having new drugs tested on me or being raped by my pimp. This is worse than ending up as a skin suit! Why, Lauren, why did you have to do that to me? Now I have to change my phone number!" I whined, slapping my hands against my face, and then carried on reading through his red flags. Tuck and FDR hovered behind me as I went through it all. Turns out the guy's name wasn't even Lloyd Turner. He was Arnold Jim Winton. What kind of name is Arnold Winton anyway? Arnold Jim Winton? His parents must have hated him.  
"I bet you're glad you're not attracted to metro-sexual males now, aren't you?" FDR asked me.

"Yes. He had jerk nails as well. There were signs. I mean, what guy is that interested in your future on the first date?"

"A nice one?" Tuck asked, and I patted his arm, smiling at him. Trust Tuck to find the romantic in such a creep.

"Those kinds of guys are rare, sweetie. Most guys are just looking for a hook-up. If I was a weak person, I'd just go back to the bed-hopper I was in my early twenties. But Rachel Simmonds is not weak, and does not want to listen to her foster-grandmother badger her about great-grandbabies for the rest of her life." I sighed, and stood up, opening the bottom drawer of my desk and grabbing my gym bag. I needed to take my frustrations out on something. A punch bag, a dummy, or one of the newbies. There were always newbies being trained in the gym.

"Where are you going?" FDR questioned, as I walked past him.

"I need to hit something. Hopefully, they've got some new agents training in the gym. I like traumatizing the newbies, it always brings a smile to my face," I explained, then I looked at FDR's desk, noticing all the paperwork that was piling up. He always left it until I forced him to do it, or did it for him. "You need to do some work, Franklin."

"I'll do it eventually."

"Hopefully before Collins sees it and kicks off at you, please? I don't want to smooth over one of her meltdowns for you again." I said, pointing at him in warning, before I walked away to relieve some stress.

Tuck followed me and we sparred together for an hour or so, before we just watched the newbies fight it out to prove they were good. When Tuck and I had been sparring, they had stopped and basked in the awesomeness that we were. Mostly I think they were surprised that I could fight as well as I can, which is slightly sexist, but with my job I get that a lot so it's just water off a duck's back now.

"Rach, do you want to, um, maybe, if you want, go to the carnival with me tonight?" Tuck asked me, sounding nervous for some reason that confused me. We'd known each other for far too long to be uncomfortable or nervous around each other.

"Sure." I answered, and he looked surprised.

"Sure? Good. Good."

"Why are you surprised that I'd say yes…unless it's a date and that's why you're nervous?" I joked, but seeing the serious look on Tuck's face made me stop grinning, and start mentally hyperventilating. Tuck was asking me out on a date. Tuck. John "Tuck" Harrison was asking me out on a date. My best friend, Tuck Harrison, was asking me out on a date. I felt like I was in my Junior year in high school again, reverting back to the girl who had panicked for two days after the quarterback had asked her to homecoming. Ah, Luke Tanner. He was hot and such a great kisser. And the abs! God, the abs!

"It's a date, unless you don't want it to be, then we can go as friends. If you want?" Tuck asked again.

I swear, for a brief, minute moment, my heart stopped beating in my chest. It was a date? I felt a smile spread on my face, and seeing his hopeful smile, I calmed down and actually gave the poor guy the answer he was waiting for.

"I'm in. It's a date." I smiled, and Tuck beamed at me.

"Great."

More than great, I thought. Fucking fantastic is more like it.

* * *

After work, I'd gone home, showered, pulled a brush through my hair and forced it up into a ponytail. I pulled on a clean t-shirt, jeans and a pair of red converse. And I added minimal make-up, like I always do. If I went overboard, Tuck would definitely notice. And I would definitely die of embarrassment. I didn't want to make it look like I was trying too hard, especially not with Tuck. I didn't want to make things weird.

He picked me up from my apartment, complimenting me as usual, and I acted as if this was normal. As if going on a date with one of your best friends was normal. I mentally scolded myself for acting like a stupid teenager, and told myself to man up. It was just Tuck. Sweet, handsome, British Tuck. Going on a date with him was what I wanted for the last few months. So I calmed myself down, and smiled, and vowed to not be weirded out or to over-think the whole date.

When we arrived, Tuck bought us a large amount of tokens, and I grinned with excitement. I love the carnival. It was one of the first things I remember Nana and Grandpa Foster taking me and Franklin to when I first became part of their family. It was a special memory, and each time the carnival was in town, FDR, Tuck and I went. You know, if we weren't busy with work and were in the country.

"God, I love the carnival." I said, spinning round once, before turning round to beam at Tuck.

"I know. That's why I brought you here," Tuck grinned, as I took his hand and let him lead me away from the entrance. "And we're not leaving until we've spent all our tokens."

"Let's do this."

We played air hockey, and I absolutely annihilated him. I knew it was from my skill alone, because Tuck knew I would beat the crap out of him if he threw his game so I would win. It's just not as satisfying knowing you've only won because the other person didn't try, and I didn't want to win just because I was a girl and he was being a gentleman and losing on purpose.

After air hockey, we walked around, until I saw a little girl crying because she lost at one of those shooting moving target games. I pursed my lips as the guy told her again that she hadn't won so couldn't have the stuffed pink unicorn she really wanted. So I decided to become a nicer person. I fished in my pocket for a couple of tokens and headed over, tugging a confused Tuck behind me.

"Hello, Miss! Think you can hit five of the moving targets for a prize?" The vendor questioned, and I smirked as I handed him the tokens and picked up the pellet gun.

I lifted the fake rifle and looked down the sights, following one of the targets and squeezed the trigger. A small ding sounded as I hit a moving bulls-eye, and I smirked again, before quickly hitting four more targets with an exact precision. The guy stared at me open-mouthed, as I lowered the gun and smiled at him expectantly.

"What, uh, what prize do you want?" He questioned.

"The pink unicorn." I said, and he quickly reached up and plucked it down for me. I smiled once more at him, before I turned away.

I saw the little girl still standing just to the side of the booth with her mom, and gestured for her to come over. Her mom hesitantly let her, but she nudged the shy blonde kid forward. I crouched down so I was at her height and I smiled warmly at her.

"I got this for you. Take good care of her, sweetie." I told her, and she stopped sniffling and smiled slightly, as she took the unicorn and skipped back over to her mom. I grinned as she showed it to the mother, who smiled thankfully at me, and then I heard more dings from the booth. I looked round, and Tuck was shooting the targets. And, of course, he hit every one. It would be painfully embarrassing if he had missed them, since we were CIA agents and were trained in the use of many different firearms.

He picked out the largest prize, this great big pink bear, and jogged over to me with a giant grin on his face.

"I thought since you gave yours away to the girl, I'd get you a replacement. You were very good with her." Tuck smiled, and I shrugged my shoulders, and hugged the bear to my stomach.

"I've had a lot of practice being a godmother. Thank you for the giant bear, though. I was thinking this morning that I needed one of these to just bring all the stuff in my house together."

Tuck laughed at me, and we walked away from the booth and decided to go do something else.

So we just strolled around the carnival aimlessly, until something interesting popped up for us to do. We had already been on the dodgem's, the Twister, and I had gone on the merry-go-round while Tuck had stood and laughed at me through a hot dog. So now we were stuck for things to do.

"So the great air hockey cheats, that is." Tuck said, as we walked around, looking for something to do.

"I'm available for lessons anytime," We laughed, and I felt happy and carefree. This was going great, and it wasn't as awkward as I thought it would be. "But only for you."

I joined our hands together, trying not to make it seem like a big deal. He smiled down at me, his blue eyes twinkling, and I smiled up at him, before looking away quickly, suddenly finding the cotton candy station incredibly interesting.

"There's something else I wanna show you." Tuck said, and I arched an eyebrow at him.

"Mysterious. I like it. Lead the way."

"Before we get there, I'm going to stop and cover your eyes so you don't ruin the surprise." Tuck warned, grinning at me.

"You aren't involved in woman trafficking, are you? Because that will have been the second time this has happened to me this week." I joked, as Tuck led me along. We were heading away from the main part of the carnival, and my curiosity was burning holes in me, and I was almost desperate to know where we were going.

"I promise I'm not taking you to a crack den." Tuck replied, going along with my joke, using my words from earlier that day.

"Well since I've got your promise," I said, as Tuck came to a halt. He tugged my teddy out of my hand and left it in a safe spot hidden in a bush. He walked around me so he was behind me, and gently placed his hands over my eyes. "If I trip up because of you, I'm taking you down with me."

"I won't let you trip." He promised, and I nodded, knowing I could trust him. There was only one other person on the planet that I had the amount of trust in as I had in Tuck and that was FDR.

Tuck led me slowly forward. For me, it was like walking in the complete darkness. We walked for what felt like forever, and it was almost silent apart from Tuck instructing me on where to put my feet. I didn't say anything until curiosity got the better of me, and I just had to ask.

"Okay, where are we going?" I asked, placing my hands over his as they covered my eyes.

"There are lions in here." Tuck whispered into my ear, his warm breath tickling my ear and sending shivers down my spine.

"No." He wouldn't do that to me. I hate lions. Lions are terrifyingly huge cats. And what was up with a lion's hair? I mean, is it hairless or does it have a coat? It's entirely too confusing.

"Yes."

"Are you serious?" I asked, as I strained to hear some sort of noise. I laughed when I realized I heard nothing. There'd probably be some noise if there was lions in here. Unless they were asleep.

Tuck's hands left my eyes, but I kept them closed until he told me to open. I didn't want to ruin his surprise.

"Okay, open them." And I blinked my eyes as they adjusted to the light in the room, and then to the sight they were beholding.

He had brought me to the acrobatic arena and the apparatus was lit up with small white lights. And above it you could see the stars shining in the sky. It was really a sight to see.

"Wow, it's so beautiful." I said, grinning at it.

"Come on." Tuck said, taking my hand and dragging me along behind him.

"We're going up there? I haven't done gymnastics that didn't involve attacking anyone since I was a teenager." I said, as he led me to a ladder. I stared up at it, apprehension filling my body. I used to be a gymnastic champion when I was younger, but got too old to compete, and since it was such a long time since I'd done proper gymnastics, I was a little hesitant. Or scared. Whichever worked best, but, out loud, I'd only admit to being hesitant.

"It'll be fun, I promise. Have I ever steered us wrong before?" Tuck asked me, turning me around to look at him instead.

"Yes. I remember you steering us wrong and we ended up in Belgium. Remember that? We went out for Chinese on a holiday in Holland, and because of your poor directions, me, you and FDR ended up crossing the border to Belgium." I laughed at the memory. All three of us ended up having an argument, all blaming each other when really it was only Tuck's fault for misreading the map we were using.

Tuck stared at me for a second, before he recovered.

"But I haven't steered us wrong since then! And that is what counts. Do this for me. I swear, we'll have fun." Tuck said, using his blue eyes and adorable British accent against me.

"Fine, but stop using that accent. I told you it's irresistible, but you still insist on using it against me!" I replied, turning away from him and climbing up the ladder. It felt like a long way up, but once I got to the top, it felt like old times when I was doing handstands on the uneven bars.

I shrugged off my cardigan and let it drop to the floor, and waited for Tuck to climb upon the other side, and onto his trapeze. I watched him for a moment, while he waited for me to swing onto mine.

"You know I trust you, but I've still gotta ask. You're gonna catch me, right?" I called to him.

"Yeah." Tuck answered.

"Promise?"

"Absolutely." Tuck replied, and I smiled, before nodding, and grabbing hold of the trapeze.

"Okay."

"One…Two…" On two, Tuck had swung himself upside down so he was ready to catch me once I'd turned myself around. "Three."

I swung out, laughing at how exhilarated it felt, and swung myself upside down as I neared Tuck.

"There you go." Tuck said, as we were pulled away from each other by the motion of the trapeze. I held my hands out as we swung near each other again, and Tuck grabbed them, pulling me off my swing. He swung me up into the air, and then suddenly let me go. I held in a scream as I fell into the net, and let out another laugh as I bounced back up into the air, before falling again.

Tuck soon landed near me, laughing as well. Though I'm not sure if he was laughing with me or at me. Oh well. We kinda kept bouncing until we met in the middle of the net.

"What was that?" I asked, still half-laughing.

"I'm sorry, I lost my grip." Tuck lied.

I leant up on my arm, so I could look down at him, draping my over arm over his stomach, and my leg rested between his. This was actually more intimate than I was expecting on our first date. If I was being honest, I had expected that if we ever did start dating that he'd take me to the Blarney Stone, his favourite bar, but this was ten times better.

"You did that on purpose." I accused him, smiling down at him.

"Uh…maybe I did." Tuck replied, pretending to think about it first.

"I think you did." I replied, breathlessly. I wanted to blame it on my fall, but it was probably how close my face was to Tuck's. This was all new territory for us; dating and what not, but I liked it. Tuck was a great guy, and would probably be the first great guy I've dated, and maybe it would work because of how well we knew each other. I knew Tuck like the back of my hand. And he knew everything about me as well.

"Well, sometimes falling is the best part." Tuck said, and I felt my heart melt to my feet.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his and felt those cliché fireworks explode in my head. Tuck tugged me on top of his body, and we must've spent about ten minutes just making out whilst lying in that net. It was probably the best first date I've ever been on.

* * *

The next day, Tuck and I were sat in our office. I thought it would be weird, what with the shift in dynamic between us since Tuck and I had been on a date, but it was still the same. All the banter was still there, and there was zero awkwardness. Well, it wasn't awkward until FDR walked into the office, with an upset pout settled firmly on his mouth.

"What's got your panties in a twist?" I joked with a chuckle, until he put his eyes on me, and I saw traces of anger in them.

"Did you guys forget something last night?" He prompted, and I thought really hard about what I could have forgotten last night. In the middle of my date with Tuck, I had panicked about leaving my hair straighteners on but when I got home they were off. But I doubt that's what Franklin is referring to.

I exchanged a glance with Tuck and he seemed to be drawing a blank as well, and apparently our silence only frustrated Franklin even more.

"We were supposed to hang out last night! CHiPs marathon and Rock Band, remember?" FDR hissed, and I instantly felt guilty.

"I am so sorry, Franklin! I completely forgot about CHiPs and Rock Band. So sorry!" I apologized, and felt guilt surge through me. I'd forgotten FDR last night! I was a terrible best friend.

"I called you guys like five times each! I was worried about you! Why didn't you answer your phones?" Franklin reprimanded us, and the guilt just built up. I hadn't remembered that we were supposed to hang out, and because of that Franklin was worried about us. And with Heinrich probably plotting revenge on us, who knew what had gone through Franklin's head when we didn't return his calls.

"In my defense, mine has been with a techie since yesterday afternoon. He's changing the number for me. And to be fair, Franklin, how many times have you cancelled on us to go hunting for something tall, blonde and gullible?" I questioned, because I needed to relieve some of my guilt.

"That's not the point. Where were you guys last night?"

"We, uh, went out on a date." Tuck answered him, and I saw Franklin visibly stiffen, though I couldn't for the life of me understand why. We're partners and best friends, I mean, it's not completely implausible. It wasn't beyond the realm of possible for me and Tuck to start dating.

"You guys...went on a...date?" FDR practically repeated, and I rolled my eyes.

"Do I need to take you to the doctor to have your hearing tested, Franklin? Yes, we went on a date. That's why we didn't come hang out. Three's a crowd, darling. Now if you'll both excuse me, Collins has asked me to assist in training some newbies." I said, rising to my feet, grabbing my gym bag like yesterday.

"I'll come watch. I need a good laugh." FDR said, and followed me all the way to the gym.

I quickly changed into my work out gear, which consisted of a black and grey sports bra, grey sweatpants and black vans, and my hot pink protective gloves. I wouldn't have chosen that colour myself, but FDR bought them for me, when it became clear that I was too lazy to wrap my hands before working out.

When I entered the work out room, the newbies were all just lounging around, and FDR was leaning against the back wall, watching them in amusement. Amusement at what was about to come.

I whistled loudly to gain the recruits attentions, and they sprung up onto their feet, their backs as straight as a metal rod, and waited for instruction.

"I'm Agent Rachel Simmonds, the grinning moron behind you is Agent Franklin "FDR" Foster. Ladies, proceed with caution," I winked at Franklin, letting him know I was just teasing, and he rolled his eyes back at me. I smirked at the recruits as I refocused on them. "How's training been so far?"

"It's been good so far, ma'am."

That's when FDR let out a bark of laughter, probably seeing my eyes narrow at the guy who called me 'ma'am'. I was sixty years old! I'm only twenty nine and that doesn't warrant the title of 'ma'am'. That was one of my pet peeves.

"Well, today the boss lady asked me to take over training, put you through your paces. You," I said, pointing at the kid who had called me ma'am. He looked at me, and showed a little nervousness, which I permitted since it was obvious as to what was going to happen. Well to me and FDR, it was obvious. "Step forward."

He did as he was told, and I smiled, and saw his nervousness vanish. That's when I struck. I moved quickly, punching him in the stomach, then grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm behind his back, popping it out of joint. Then I kicked his knees out from under him, and pushed him against the mat.

"Rule Number One, always, always be ready for an attack. Let yourself get lulled into a false sense of security by a pretty smile or a kind word, and that's how you get yourself killed," I said, letting him go, pushing his shoulder back into place, and helping the guy to his feet. "Rule Number Two, never, ever call me 'ma'am'. That's how you get yourself killed."

They chuckled at that and I smiled.

"Now, Rule Number Three is think and then act. You wouldn't believe how many times that I've almost been killed because a fellow agent didn't think before he acted." I told them, giving FDR a pointed look, to which he immediately protested.

"Bangladesh was not my fault! That guy was begging to be shot in the knee!"

"What happened in Bangladesh?" A female recruit questioned, letting curiosity get the better of her.

"Rule Number Four, never ask about Bangladesh. Or Kandahar." I warned, but, as usual, FDR was in a playful mood and tried to undermine me in front of the new kids.

"You should ask her about Moscow. That one was interesting!" Franklin said, and the newbies all looked at me expectantly, and I glared at my partner.

"Is there any particular reason you're here, Agent Foster?" I questioned, now a little annoyed with his presence. Moscow was a touchy subject. It was a deep cover mission, and I'd had to date this Russian drug lord who was smuggling drugs through Mexico and into the US for a nice profit. He wasn't a very gentle guy, let's put it that way. Mostly because he wasn't even straight, and was only pretending to be because he was ashamed. And during those shame spirals he would take his anger out on me, and as it was a deep cover mission, I wasn't allowed to fight back. It felt like my early childhood all over again.

"I was actually hoping that we could go out tonight to one of my favourite clubs. Barcelona, at eight." FDR stated rather than actually asked.

"I'm sort of in the middle of something, FDR. My job, remember?"

"I guess that I could stay and tell the recruits more about Moscow. She had to infiltrate this drug ring and pretend to be the drug lord's girlfrie-"

"If I say yes, will you leave please? You're undermining me in front of the kids!" I said, and smirked at the indignant looks the recruits gave me as I called them 'kids'. Most of them were probably only ten years younger than me, but in 'agent years' that was practically thirty years. Being an agent gave you a shorter lifespan.

"Of course. Barcelona, at eight."

"Fine. You drive." I sighed, waving him away. FDR pushed off of the wall he had been leaning on, and walked half way out the door.

"Fine. You're so hot when you're beating the crap out of the newbies."

"Get the hell out of here, FDR!" I half-shouted, half-laughed, as he darted out of the room. As soon as he was gone, I refocused on the recruits. "So where was I...?"

* * *

Tuck sat at his desk, cleaning his gun with an old rag. He was trying to concentrate on something other than the fact that FDR had taken Rachel clubbing. He wasn't sure if she knew it was a date, but she had still gone, even if she had kissed him on the cheek before they left the office.

"Tuck. Where are your partners?" Another agent asked him.

"Oh, they went out on a date." Tuck replied, looking away from his gun to acknowledge the other two agents' presence.

"Of course they did. FDR's an assassin, slays everything he sets his sights on, right? Apparently even his partner." The female agent said, before they walked away.

Tuck digested her words, before he let himself panic. What are the chances that FDR would stick to their agreement and not sleep with Rachel if the opportunity arose? Not that she would sleep with him, but if she was drunk enough to want to? Tuck climbed out of his chair, and went to find a technician who could track FDR's car.

* * *

FDR pulled up in front of the club, and jumped out his side, rushing around the front of the car to open my door before I did. I raised an eyebrow at him, but climbed out, and followed him inside the club. I could see the lights from the entrance, and wasn't really happy that I was here. I didn't do clubs anymore. I'd matured past all that.

"You ever been here before?" FDR asked me.

"The club scene isn't mine anymore. You should feel lucky I'm gracing you with my presence here." I joked, as he led me through the crowd. Occasionally, he'd greet someone, which didn't really surprise me. It's a club, so of course Franklin knows everybody.

"You're gonna love this place, I swear. Hey, Ciera. How are you?" He said, to a coat-check girl as we passed her. I felt like I was in some bizarre dream or an alternate universe. I did the club scene in my early twenties. Bars were where I bought my booze now. That or the supermarket. I wasn't into this kinda thing anymore, unless I had to for a mission. The strobe lighting, the pulsing bass, the girls grinding against anything that came into their path, the guys grabbing my ass…this wasn't my idea of fun anymore. But somehow, Franklin had persuaded me to come here with him.

"We never have fun anymore, Rach. You've got to loosen up. Get off simmer," FDR said, walking backwards as he talked to me, probably trying to make sure I was giving him my attention or that another club rat hadn't kidnapped me. He turned around and noticed another person he recognised. "Nathaniel! What's up, baby? How you been?"

FDR bumped fists with the bartender, before he grabbed my hand and twirled me around.

"Look at you! You are shining like a bright light," I grinned at him, and shook my head as he led me forward again. Then we stopped as he spotted a group of people in a booth who all looked happy to see him. I was beginning to notice that he would speak at these people, but not really to them, and then we'd move on again. It would make an interesting social interaction study. "All right, I gotta go say hi to the DJ. He knows me."

"You know a lot of people here tonight." I said.

"Yeah, I'm a popular guy." I raised an eyebrow at that, and FDR swotted me on the butt. I laughed at him, and he started tugging me forward once more. Some guy pulled up a rope and FDR nudged me forward, letting me go first.

And then a table arrived right in front of me, and I realised something. It was like I was having an epiphany. This was FDR's version of a date. I sat down on the chair someone provided for me, but when FDR went to the bar, I jumped up and ran for it. I disappeared in the crowd of sweaty dancers, and made a beeline for the entrance, and my exit.

I was almost across the street when I heard FDR following me.

"Hey, Rach! Where are you going?" He asked me. "Where are you going? We just got here."

"You didn't tell me this was a date, Franklin."

"Did you not know that? I thought it was obvious. Come on. We'll go back inside and we'll have a good time, like the old days. Just you and me." FDR tried persuading me, tugging me to a stop. I turned and faced him.

"But it's not like the old days. I've already moved past this stage, Franklin. Back in high school, when I was a gymnast, my best event was the keg stand, remember?"

"We should see if they have a keg inside." He said.

"Unbelievable."

"What? All I said is that we should see if they have a keg stand inside."

"That's why I'm walking away right now." I said, turning to walk away, but he said something that stopped me from walking.

"Because you've gotten too uptight and don't know how to have a good time anymore?" FDR questioned loudly, and made me turn right back around to snap at him.

"No, because I'm not going to ruin our friendship just so I can be another notch on your belt, Franklin. God. Sometimes you have the emotional intelligence of a 15-year-old boy. You think calling me uptight is going to make me want to date you or go back up in the club? I don't think so."

"Thank you, judgmental princess." FDR retorted. I shook my head at him, and tried not to laugh. Every time we've ever had an argument, I've always ended up in stitches. This was not the time for that, but I couldn't not laugh.

"Let's just call it a night."

"Please let's call it a night." FDR replied.

"Goodnight, FDR," I said, turning to walk away from him, but stopping when I noticed something very bad walking towards me. My high school boyfriend, Jason, was walking this way with a pretty, slender brunette on his arm. I'm pretty sure it was Marcie Paxton, the girl he cheated on me with in my senior year. I could not be standing here alone, still somewhat single (Tuck and I hadn't really spoken about what was going on with us), when he walked past me with her. "Oh my god, this is not happening."

I turned round, and grabbed FDR, who still looked pissed.

"Kiss me."

"What? No." FDR protested.

"Franklin, I will forgive you for duping me into a date with you, and for treating me like one of your other girls, if you would just kiss me right now." I hissed at him, looking away to see how close Jason was.

"Why would I do that? Are you bi-polar or something?" He questioned, and I ignored the jab. I wasn't bi-polar, I was desperate. There's a difference.

"Because you wanted to do it the other day in the video store." I retorted, and pulled his face towards mine, and pressed my lips against his. He didn't respond straight away, but a second later, FDR was pulling me closer and holding me against him. I gripped the top of his suit so I wouldn't fall backwards, as our mouths moved roughly together in a passionate kiss.

I barely heard Jason when he said my name. I was kind of blind sided by how good of a kisser FDR was. I could tell he'd had a lot of practice. Jason said my name again, and I pulled away from FDR actually reluctantly.

"Oh. Oh, Jason. Oh, my God, it's so weird running into you. That's so funny," I smiled, looking up at FDR to beg him with my eyes to play along. "Um…this is my boyfriend, FDR."

"Cool. What do you do, man?" Jason asked him. I glanced up at FDR again, who was just staring down at me, before I widened my eyes. I really did not want to look like a single loser in front of the first guy who broke my heart.

FDR turned to him, and held out his hand.

"I'm a neurosurgeon. I'm the department head at the children's hospital." FDR answered, shaking Jason's hand. Jason looked unimpressed, but Marcie definitely was. I loved FDR's ability to lie effortlessly. It made this moment so much sweeter because Jason was now jealous of FDR because he had captured Marcie's attention very quickly.

"Wow, that's amazing." Marcie said, practically swooning over FDR. I wrapped my arm around his waist, and leaned into his side. I kind of shocked myself, as I realised just how territorial that move was. I didn't own FDR and he didn't belong to me. At. All.

"He is. He's really amazing." I agreed.

"Amazing?" I heard Jason mutter.

"You know I don't know what makes me happier. The smile on a child's face or waking up next to you every morning," FDR said, and I almost swooned. God, I never knew he could be that sappy or romantic, lying or not. He looked down at me with a smile that I almost swore was real. "I love you."

"I love you. I love you too." I replied, with a fake giggle as FDR kissed me again quickly.

"We're very happy." I told Jason and Marcie. Jason looked annoyed, which made me even happier. I had officially won our break-up, even if it was based on a lie. It still counted. Totally still counted.

"We are." FDR agreed.

"Yeah." Jason said, unenthusiastically.

"Who wouldn't be happy with a girl like this? She's got everything. She's got the beauty, the style, the grace." FDR said, smiling down at me. As I looked up into his eyes, I could have sworn the emotions there were real, but this was FDR. In the office, the other agents say he slays everything in his path by any means necessary. So who knew if he was being genuine anymore.

"He's so sweet to me." I said, kissing FDR again, slower this time.

"Yeah, I think we should get going." Jason said, looking awkward. We both turned our heads to look at him.

"Justin, it was such a pleasure. We gotta go." FDR said, holding his hand out for Jason to shake again, and purposefully getting his name wrong. I smirked a little at that.

"I mean, it's Jason, but that's cool," Jason said, taking his hand and shaking it once, before letting it go. "Great meeting you."

"Jason, yeah. Whatever." FDR said, turning his attention to Marcie.

"Really nice meeting you." She said, looking at FDR as she said it.

"Really nice meeting you?" Jason asked her, quietly.

"Sweetheart, it was a pleasure." FDR replied to her, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it.

"Oh, look at that. A little kiss on the hand there. That's sweet." Jason said, pathetically. I wanted to burst out laughing at the annoyed expression on his face, but I held it in. Jason steered Marcie around us, clearly desperate to get away from us. Probably because he knew that I was with someone on a much higher level than him. Men hate that.

"You are so lucky." She said to me, as they walked past.

"I know." FDR laughed, but I'm pretty sure he was laughing at me, and not at Marcie.

"Bye, guys," FDR said, as we turned around to watch them leave. "See you. Have fun, John."

"It's Jason." He replied, not even turning around.

I sighed, and stopped smiling. My jaw ached from the amount of fake smiling I just did.

"Okay. Thank you, Franklin." I said, as soon as Jason and Marcie were far enough away from us. FDR pressed his finger behind his ear, and I knew he was going to milk this.

"What did you say? I'm a little deaf."

"I said, thank you. Thank you. You don't have to be annoying about it." I sighed, rolling my eyes at him.

He just smirked at me.

"Let's go get some pizza. I know a place around the corner," When he saw me hesitate, he continued with a very valid argument to the argument I never got to say. "Rach, you owe me an explanation for whatever that was."

"Okay. You're right, I do. That was weird."

"Yeah?"

"Sure."

* * *

We were sitting down in the pizza place, beer in hand, sharing the best meat lovers pizza I'd ever eaten, while I explained to him why I'd made him pretend to be my boyfriend. It wasn't that long of a story, if I was honest, especially after I'd condensed it slightly, removing the unnecessary parts.

"You remember how popular I was in high school, right? Well, he was the quarterback to my head cheerleader. In a romantic drama, he would have been the guy I ended up with."

"So? What went wrong?" Franklin questioned.

"I found him in the girls room, half naked with Marcie Paxton, the girl he was just with, on prom night. It stung a little when I had to dance with him because we won prom king and queen, but I pulled through it. It was probably the most humiliating thing I've ever gone through. Except Moscow."

"I don't remember any of this. Why don't I remember this?" Franklin asked me, sipping on his beer.

"I didn't tell you. I suffer in silence, you know that. Besides, he was my mistake, not yours." I smiled at him, shrugging.

"I don't believe in mistakes." FDR replied, his tone serious. I chuckled.

"That's a very convenient philosophy for you, isn't it, Franklin?" I teased him, and he swotted my leg with his hand in response.

"It's the mistakes that makes us who we are." He replied.

"God, that is the most serious answer you've ever given to a question. And I mean ever. Who are you and what have you done to my FDR?" I teased him, pretending to search his face to check if he was the real Franklin. He batted my hands away, and smiled at me.

"We were having a moment, and you just ruined it, Rach. You are a moment killer." He whined.

"I'm sorry. You're very smart, Franklin." I grinned at him, as I tried to make up for ruining our 'moment'.

"Yes, I am."

"Pretty smart for a club rat." I joked, sipping my beer. FDR laughed, shaking his head at me, pretending I'd offended him. Hey, if the club rat shoe fits…FDR would be wearing a pair.

"Ouch. Why must you wound me?"

"Someone has to knock you down a peg, otherwise you'd need someone to cut you and your ego out of every room you go in." I joked, sipping on my beer again.

"Speaking of my ego, I think we should talk about that kiss. Or those kisses." FDR said, correcting himself at the end. I sighed, and sat up straighter. Of course, he'd bring that up. It was such a FDR thing to do. He couldn't just let it be.

FDR stared at me, and I'll admit, my heart did race slightly, so I distracted myself by chugging the rest of my beer. After I'd placed the empty bottle back down on the counter, I turned my body back round to face him. His blue eyes were just so irritatingly beautiful. Why do men make things so difficult by being so damn attractive?

"I don't know what you want me to say, Franklin." I replied.

"Say you'll give me a second date."

"I didn't even know we were going on a first one. You're putting me into an uncomfortable position, FDR. I just went on a date with Tuck and we had a nice time and I like him. Do you know what it makes me look like going on a date with you the day after? Tuck probably hates me. I can't date both my partners. It's wrong."

Franklin smiled at me.

"So you'll date one of us, and I'm guessing it's not me. Well, I'm a persistent man, Rachel Simmonds, you know that. I'll convince you to date me and you won't regret it."

"I don't regret anything, Franklin, but I'm not going to date you. You and I can only be friends."

"You keep telling yourself that, but I am going to prove you wrong. I can be that guy that girls want to date, that you'll want to date, and I will prove it to you."

I groaned with frustration, and considered ordering another beer. FDR was one of those guys that once he set his mind to something, you couldn't turn him off it. He would become increasingly annoying until he'd accomplished what he'd set out to do. I'm not sure I'm mentally prepared for all of this.


	6. Chapter 6

FDR walked into headquarters the next day with a smile on his face. Other than a couple of hiccups, his date with Rachel had gone well. They'd eventually enjoyed themselves over pizza and despite the fact she insisted it wasn't a date, she'd admitted that she'd had fun. Rachel had even said, as he dropped her off at her place, that they should hang out alone more often. FDR had smirked at that in victory, causing her to clarify it would only be only as friends.

"Agent Simmonds looked good last night." FDR turned round and looked at the technician who'd spoken to him with confusion, before he turned around again. He paused thinking about it, until he realized. Tuck had re-conned his date. His best friend had re-conned his date with his other best friend, even when she insists it wasn't a date (which it was). That totally went against their gentlemen's agreement!

FDR carried on walking towards their 'office' space, and was glad to see Tuck already at his desk, tapping away on the keyboard of his computer. He walked between the desks and paced for a second, before speaking.

"You re-conned my date." He accused, standing still and crossing his arms over his chest.

"What? No. No." Tuck adamantly denied, as he stopped typing and put his feet up on his desk.

"Yeah, you did."

"Okay. I'm sorry, I did. I re-conned your date." Tuck said, sounding ashamed, but FDR was annoyed at his long-time best friend and partner.

"We had a deal!"

"I know. Sorry, I just started thinking-" Tuck attempted to explain himself, but FDR cut him off.

"You started thinking?" He questioned, sarcastically.

"I had to find out-I don't know. That's all." Tuck replied.

"So if there was some action, what were you gonna do? Call in Special Ops?" FDR asked, only half-sarcastically. He was curious on how far a jealous Tuck would have gone if FDR and Rachel's date (which was a date no matter how many times she denied it wasn't) had progressed to, as Tuck calls it, 'hanky panky'. Not that it would have anyway. Rachel wasn't that kind of girl. She was all for the whole dating game, and marriage and babies and stuff. FDR hadn't ever really seen the appeal to it all before.

"No!"

"Sniper squad? Take me out?"

"No, no. I mean-"

Both men shut up as Rachel approached with Collins. From the way that Rachel's brow was furrowed and a frown was set on her face, they were talking about something serious. Or something that Rachel didn't like. Or both. It was possible.

"Our Munich office got a hit back on one of Heinrich's men from Hong Kong. Name is Ivan Sokolov," Collins explained, handing FDR an identical information packet to the one that Rachel was now looking through herself. "Here's a surveillance file from the DFS in Mexico. We expect he's trying to get Heinrich into the country through L.A Harbor."

"Chatter suggests that Ivan lives here in L.A. Heinrich probably has men planted all over in case of situations like this." Rachel explained, not looking up from her information packet as she walked over to her desk and sat down.

"Now, flush him out." Collins ordered, walking away.

"She's definitely lost her sparkle," FDR commented as soon as his boss was out of ear shot. He tossed Tuck the file and sat at his desk, and gave them a plan of action. "All right, look, you flag Interpol, I'll call some of our contacts. Rachel, you try to dig up as much information on our guy and try to find locations he will most likely be."

Rachel nodded and jumped up out of her seat.

"Where are you going?" Tuck asked, his eyes following her as she walked around her desk.

"I'm gonna hunt up a techie, and get some I.T support. More screens equals more space to find our newest friend." Rachel explained, as she strolled away, file in hand. Her two partners watched as she approached a technician, clicked her fingers at him, and walked away with the guy snapping at her heels like her own personal lap dog. She had a talent, sometimes she abused that talent.

"I really like Rachel." Tuck said, looking over at FDR.

"I really like her too." FDR replied, not looking up from a file he had in his hands.

"No, I really, really like her." Tuck said, emphasizing his words as he tried to make his friend understand. FDR had always been clueless when it came to feelings. Especially when it came to romantic feelings. Once Rachel had caught her boyfriend cheating on her when they had come home from the Moscow mission, and FDR had taken her out and tried to find a guy for her to take home. That had led to the pair's biggest argument ever.

"So do I." FDR said, glancing up at Tuck to show that he meant what he was saying.

"You do?"

"Yeah, I do."

"So you're not backing off?" Tuck questioned.

"Nope." FDR answered, popping the 'p' in 'nope', mostly to emphasis the word, but also to try and wind Tuck up a little bit, which was relatively easy. Especially now.

"Okay," Tuck replied, moving the file off his lap. "Then you ought to know that when we went out on our date, Rachel and I…we, um…"

Tuck made a gesture to show what he meant, but it only confused FDR.

"What? What did you do?"

"We shared a kiss." Tuck said.

"Wow." FDR replied, sarcastically, making Tuck frown at him. That kiss had meant a lot to him, and here his best friend was belittling it. It was a sweet moment that had confirmed to Tuck that Rachel possibly shared his feelings. At least enough to kiss him for ten minutes and not run away or laugh at him afterwards.

"Mm-hm." Tuck turned back to his computer monitor and started tapping away on his keyboard again.

"An incredibly magical kiss with tongue. Oh, dear. Wonderful." FDR teased Tuck, mimicking his British accent to add further insult to injury.

Tuck glared at his friend.

"You are an animal."

"Look, pal, we kissed too. It was pretty special and I don't think it'll be the last." FDR said, using his normal voice and looking through some of his contact files to see if any of them had any connection to Ivan or Heinrich.

"Well, we'll see about that, won't we?" Tuck replied.

"We shall see about that."

"Yes, we will. We will see about that."

FDR looked up at Tuck, who was typing again and glaring at the monitor like it was his enemy.

"Don't do that. Don't say what I just said."

"We will see about that. About that, we will see. We will see about that. About that, we will see."

"About what, will we see?" Both men looked up at Rachel, who had returned, walking whilst staring down at a tablet. She lowered it and raised her head, glancing at both of them in turn. Tuck and FDR exchanged a glance and nodded.

"Nothing." They said in unison, which both impressed and irritated their female partner.

Rachel rolled her eyes, and moved until she could collapse into her chair.

"Whatever. Don't tell me. I probably don't want to know anyway," She mumbled, looking up at them and noticing that they were still looking at her. "Let's get to work, gentlemen. I'm not doing it all myself."

They both seemed to snap out of their own little words, and went back to work. Rachel shook her head at the pair before she continued to read through the information on her tablet. She and the techie had gotten quite a few locations that Ivan like to inhabit, and now she was trying to see if they had any informants that hung around those places.

"Weirdoes." She muttered under her breath.

* * *

Tuck had gathered a group of techies together in one of the smaller training rooms at headquarters. In order to make sure that Rachel fell in love with him instead of FDR, he had to know everything there was to know about her, even the stuff that she kept private. Normally, he would respect her space and her privacy, but this was necessary.

"Right. This is a live operation, it's a full wrap and tap, boys. I want parabolics, infrareds, sat cams, everything we got on the job," Tuck ordered, as the men sat in front of him nodded along to his words. "And we are gathering intel on Agent Rachel Simmonds."

"Agent Simmonds, sir?" Boyles questioned, already knowing that there was something wrong with this. Why would they be gathering intel on Agent Simmonds? If she found out, she would kill them all in some excruciatingly painful way that would make it impossible for them to have an open casket funeral.

"Yes, Boylee. What are her secret likes and dislikes. I want to know what makes her laugh, what makes her cry. Her best friends outside the agency, all family members. Everything is important. Who she was sleeping with last week."

"You want us to take them out?" Boyles questioned.

Tuck stared at the ground, thinking hard about his answer, before he shook his head.

"No."

"I'm sorry, boss, but what does this have to do with Heinrich?" Boyles asked, though he already had an inkling as to what answer he would get.

"I'm afraid that's level 5 classified. For my eyes only," Tuck answered very quickly. "This operation is top secret, lads. Don't let your country down."

"Roger that." Boyles, and the other two agents said in unison, causing Tuck to smile.

* * *

FDR was stood in front of three technicians he had rounded up to help him gather intelligence on Rachel. He had grown up with her, but she had her secrets. There weren't any big secrets between them, because they made that a rule. It was her Rule Number Five: No life-altering secrets. He knew quite a lot about Rachel Simmonds, but he needed to know everything in order to make her fall in love with him instead of Tuck.

"Okay, gentlemen, this is a live operation. I want you to acquire intel on one Agent Rachel Simmonds." FDR announced to his techies.

"Simmonds, sir?" Bothwick asked, not understanding what connection Agent Simmonds could have to the Heinrich case, other than the obvious one.

"Yes, Simmonds. I want intel on her. What are her secret likes, dislikes. Her favourite movies, music, books. I want to know her best friends, family members. And the last three guys she slept with." FDR instructed the three men, who nodded along, remembering everything.

"You want us to take them out?" Bothwick questioned. It was a plausible thing to ask. They did take people out. They were allowed to do that as members of a governmental organisation.

"Yea-no." FDR decided. If three of her ex-lovers were found dead, Rachel would get suspicious. She wasn't dumb, she'd work it out eventually and then she'd cut special body parts off, parts that he'd gotten rather emotionally invested in after all these years.

"I'm sorry, but what does this have to do with the Heinrich case?" Bothwick inquired.

"That's level 5 classified. For my eyes only. This operation is top secret. Don't let your country down, boys." FDR smiled at the three technicians, who nodded once at him.

"Roget that, boss."

* * *

Tuck and FDR disappeared for most of the day doing only God knows what, so I didn't even see them before I clocked out and went home.

I decided to have a 'me' night. I'd just gone out the past two nights, so tonight was the night I was going to spend by myself, listening to Montell Jordan's 'This Is How We Do It' very loudly, eating popcorn, looking at adorable shelter dogs and watching one of my favourite movies, "Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid", in nothing but a giant sweater. It's one of the movies that FDR and I used to watch with Grandpa Foster when we were kids and the sweater was super comfy.

As I sung along to Montell Jordan, occasionally throwing in the odd dance move, I felt like someone was in my apartment. I shook it off, though, because a) my home phone was unlisted, b) I always switch up the way I go home in case someone is following me and c) my house is a step down from being as secure as Fort Knox. The only people that could get in were Tuck and FDR, but they both said they had plans when I asked them what they were up to for the night. So I just shrugged it off as paranoia and carried on with my night.

As soon as my popcorn was done, I hopped over to my couch and turned the volume up on my flat screen TV and settled in for the night.

I didn't get the bad feeling again all night which just confirmed to me that it was paranoia brought on by thinking that someone was trying to smuggle Heinrich into the state. Though I don't know how he would know that we lived in LA, because we were in Hong Kong when Jonas Heinrich accidentally took a nose dive off the top of that building. He wouldn't find us...at least not for a while.

* * *

Tuck watched Rachel as she danced around her kitchen, before he went in. He knew that Rachel had a keen instinct and would probably know someone was there the moment they stepped in, but he had to place bugs around her house so he could eavesdrop on her conversations with her friends to see what she was saying about him. He hadn't actually been inside her house in a while and noticed that the collectible Camaro collection was new and took note of that. He knew that Rachel was a car fanatic, but he couldn't remember what her favourite car was. Now he did. He placed a couple of bugs upstairs before he quickly made his exit, before Rachel caught him and killed him for breaking into her place.

Rachel hated her privacy being disrespected, and that's why he and FDR always called before they dropped by her house. They had been yelled at too many times to not remember to do that.

* * *

FDR broke into Rachel's house, stalking down the stairs from the top floor to the bottom floor when the coast was clear, listening to her sing along to 'This Is How We Do It' as he placed bugs around the communal areas. He was placing one on one of her lampshades when he noticed a small painting by Gustav Klimt. He didn't know that Rachel liked art. He ducked behind into her den as she came out of her bathroom, still singing along to the music. She glanced at her open laptop on her counter space as she went past it and aww'd at the screen. When she moved away and he wasn't in her sights any more, FDR moved and looked at what was on the screen. A website for a pet shelter. FDR memorized this, realizing he didn't know Rachel as well as he thought he did, before he snuck out again, before she caught him.

Because Rachel would kill him if she caught him sneaking around her house while she was wearing nothing but a jumper that barely passed her ass. Not that he was complaining. It had been quite the distraction.

* * *

The next day at headquarters, me and my lap-dog, Techie (as I have affectionately labelled him because I cannot for the life of me remember his name) got an address for Ivan Sokolov, Heinrich's guy, so first I notified Collins and then me and the boss lady went to tell Tuck and FDR.

Only when we approached mine, FDR and Tuck's 'office' space, the two idiots were just sitting there, engaging in a really competitive game of paper toss, chucking paper balls into the bin in front of my desk. They looked like a pair of kids passive-aggressively fighting over something. Which made me wonder what they were fighting over.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Collins demanded, which made both men take their feet off their desks and sit up simultaneously. I shook my head at them, sighing. I don't know what was going on with them, but they were acting weird, and had been for a while now.

"Nothing." FDR answered.

"Well, I'm sorry to interrupt playtime, but your partner got an address on Ivan Sokolov, and we thought you boys might wanna get out of the office."

Both guys jumped to their feet quickly, but I noticed that Tuck threw one last paper ball and I watched as it hit its target. I turned and walked away, both the guys following me as I headed out of headquarters and to my SUV.

"Wanna tell me what the pissing match was about?" I asked, glancing at them both as I drove us to the address, looking out of the corner of my eyes at FDR and in my rear-view mirror at Tuck.

"Nope." FDR and Tuck replied together. I shook my head, and clenched the wheel a little tighter.

"That's fine. You guys don't have to tell me anything. Just leave whatever it is back at the office and keep your heads in the game. I don't want to get shot because you're having some petty squabble that you refuse to tell me about." I snapped at them. I don't care if it was harsh. I didn't want to get shot and then have to spent even longer out of the field because Tuck and FDR are having problems. And I needed to be able to trust them to have my back and put aside whatever shit they had going on to be able to do that.

I pulled up in an alleyway a street over, so that we had a quick getaway (if we needed to catch Ivan) that wouldn't get spotted by any guys who were protecting the club. Ivan hangs out at a strip club, which really isn't surprising if I'm honest. It's a tad stereotypical of him, because most bad guys spent a lot of time at strip clubs, but hey, that's his business. It just gets tiring going into these types of places, where the women are half-naked and ogled at and in turn I get ogled at by these aroused, demeaning men. This part of my job kinda sucked.

I walked in between FDR and Tuck as we headed to the club entrance, and they began arguing over who was taking lead.

"I'll take lead, you run backup." FDR said.

"No, I was thinking of taking lead on this one, thank you." Tuck argued.

"I'm always the first in the door." FDR retaliated.

"You're not always first at everything." Tuck retorted quietly as we approached the bouncer.

"Oh for…I'm taking lead," I whispered, stepping forward. I smiled seductively at the big, well-built man in front of me, and looked up through my eyelashes at him. "Hi. We're friends of Ivan."

The guy's eyes raked over my body before settling back on my face with a smirk, then he nodded his head and stepped out of the way of the door. I glanced back at the guys and walked in and stopped just inside the door, waiting for them. I pointed at Tuck and FDR in turn as I gave them their orders.

"You're the drunk, you're the sober friend and I'm going to stick around at the bar in case he tries to make a break for it. That's the plan. Don't get each other killed." I instructed, with a glare, before I turned and made a beeline for the bar, ignoring the half naked women who were gyrating on pretty much every surface. I watched out of my peripheral vision as Tuck and FDR went into the back, Tuck already starting to pretend to stumble. I had to give him props for his acting skills. He was a very convincing drunk.

"What can I get you, beautiful? A drink? A job?" The bartender asked me, leering at me from over the counter. I smiled politely at him, and resisted the urge to punch him. Whatever the guys were arguing about was already starting to frustrate me. For starters, we never had secrets. It was one of the reasons we functioned so well as a team, because everything was out in the open. And secondly, they were letting it affect us. And that pissed me off.

"You can get me the coldest beer you've got." He did as he was told, but I didn't even get to have two sips of it, before gun fire sounded off in the back, and Ivan burst through into the club wielding a shot gun.

I climbed out of my seat, watching as Tuck and FDR darted forward, and held back. Someone had to use their head here. And it was clear to me that my partners were running on pure adrenaline and little common sense right now. They weren't really working together like they normally did. It seemed to me as if they were both trying to capture him themselves.

I waited until Ivan threw Tuck off of him and into FDR, knocking them over like bowling pins, before I jumped into action. I vaulted over a banister and ran onto the stage, and tackled Ivan into one of the stripper poles. We both hit it hard, but Ivan rolled out of my reach and pulled out a handgun, aiming it at me and pulling the trigger quickly. Luckily for me, he was a poor shot (which is bad for a henchman), because he aimed for my chest but shot me in the arm. I hissed in pain, but recovered quickly. Probably due to my own rush of adrenaline.

I dived towards him, rolling forward and kicking out his legs from underneath him. I disarmed him, but he managed to get a lucky punch to my face. I punched him in the throat, stunning him and then pulled his arms behind his back and cuffed him. FDR and I pointed our guns at Ivan making sure he wouldn't try anything as Tuck dragged him backwards so he could tie him to one of the poles so he couldn't run.

As soon as I was satisfied he wasn't going to move, I stepped away from him and glanced at my partners.

"I've got to say boys, I'm a huge fan of your work. Great job today, really!" I said, sarcastically, before I walked back to the bar to see if my beer was still standing and full. All that was left of my ice cold beer was several shards of glass and a puddle that dripped over the counter and onto the floor, so I stormed back over to FDR and Tuck. I ignored them and dropped down onto the stage and dialed Collins' number.

"_I assume that you have Ivan in possession_."

"Yes, ma'am. We need an extraction and medical team."

"_Extraction and medical team ETA five minutes_."

"Thanks, boss." I hung up the phone, and eased my leather jacket off, grimacing as the leather grazed the bullet wound. I pulled my shirt off, thankful that I was wearing a tank top underneath, and looked at the wound.

"You've been shot?" FDR questioned.

"Nope, I fell on a ketchup bottle." I rolled my eyes at him, before I continued scrutinizing my wound to see how deep the bullet went in. It wasn't that deep, but I decided to leave it until the medics got here to remove it, so I just held my bloodied top against it to staunch the blood.

Tuck sat down next to me, and pulled my now ruined shirt away from my arm and glanced at it. Then he gently probed the skin around the bullet hole, hesitating when I hissed in pain, before continuing. Tuck then ripped the sleeve off my shirt and tied it around the wound as a makeshift bandage.

"There you are. That's a little better, isn't it?" Tuck murmured, mostly to himself, before he raised his eyes from my arm to my eyes.

"So I'm guessing he wasn't convinced by your acting, huh?" I questioned.

"Apparently Heinrich doesn't have friends." FDR replied, sitting on my other side.

I chuckled a little bit at that.

"Of course not. What evil, international criminal has friends, really?" I joked, really wanting to just rest my head against Tuck's shoulder, hold FDR's hand and doze off for a couple of minutes while we wait for the medic, because the adrenaline was wearing off and my arm was actually beginning to hurt. But because we were sitting in front of Ivan, I couldn't because it wouldn't be professional or wise.

"None that I can think of." Tuck replied, and I smiled at him.

The evac and medical team arrived moments later, and some agents grabbed Ivan, and I pretty much had to order Tuck and FDR to go and supervise his transportation, while the medics came and took out the bullet lodged in my arm and wrapped it up.

Instead of heading back to headquarters though, I just drove back to my apartment. I showered and changed into a loose fitting sweater that covered my arm up and then texted Lauren and Trish, asking them to come over. I needed someone to talk to about this whole Tuck and FDR business. I mean tonight is just proof of the fact that I cannot just date two men at once, even though I wasn't dating FDR and I'd only been on one date with Tuck. But still I began to freak out and needed to talk to the only two female friends that I was close to that lived in LA.

So Lauren and Trish came over, though Trish told me that this had better be worth it because she had to hire a babysitter, and I cracked open a bottle of red wine. Trish and Lauren sat on the other side of my kitchen island and I stood, sipping on my wine before I explained my problem. They both seemed pretty pleased with me. Trish seemed ecstatic actually. Apparently her and Bob only got to have sex once a week on a Wednesday at 9:00 pm and that she was happy because now she could 'live a fantasy life through me'.

"I just can't believe that this is one of my problems now. Last month, I was dating my TIVO. This month, I'm potentially dating my two gorgeous best friends."

"You need to stop referring to your TIVO as if it's a man. It's not. You sound like you're an old lady with nine cats who knits her ass off," Trish said, making me chuckle into my wine glass. "And you never said gorgeous. You said good-looking. There's a difference-"

"You wanna see a picture of them?" I questioned, grabbing my phone and going through my photos to find suitable pictures of Tuck and FDR.

"Yes." Lauren and Trish said together.

"Give it!" Lauren demanded, holding her hand out for my phone. I clicked on a picture I found of FDR and made sure there was one right next to it of Tuck so she could just slide it across and see. I passed Lauren the phone and she and Trish leaned in together to looked at the picture.

"Oh. Wow." Lauren said, staring down at the picture of FDR. I think it was from a dinner at Nana's last summer.

"Right?" I asked.

"That's dirty sex. You know when you know you're gonna have dirty sex and it's gonna stink. Not like sex. I mean, like, man stink, the good stuff," Trish said, and I laughed at her little rant. That's the way Trish was sometimes. She would talk and talk and talk and not realise she was doing it. "That's pretty impressive. For you, yeah. What does the other one look like?"

* * *

FDR was in his recon room, watching the live surveillance from Rachel's house. She had her two friends over, Lauren and Trish, and they were discussing him and Tuck. Rachel seemed to be pretty confused about the whole situation, and FDR knew how Rachel hates confusion. Rachel Simmonds and confusion did not mix well.

_"That's pretty impressive. For you, yeah. What does the other one look like?"_

"_You just scroll over." Rachel instructed Trish._

_"Oh, my God. He is hot too."_

FDR heard the door behind him slide open so he jumped to his feet, thinking it was Collins. Tuck looked at him and closed the door behind him. FDR sighed, thankful it wasn't his boss, because she would definitely have killed him for this, or, worse, told Rachel so she could kill him.

_"I am impressed by you. This is hotness. That man is-"_

"You scared the shit out of me," FDR said, as he sat back down in his seat. He turned round and looked at his partner, who just stood at the back of the small room with his hands clasped behind his head, trying not to glance at the monitors that displayed Rachel's apartment. "Are you alright?"

"Yup."

"Medically speaking?"

"Fine."

_"They're people, not products._"_ Rachel's friend, Lauren, said to the crazier blonde_. The moment's silence between the two men allowed her voice to be heard, before FDR drowned the trio of blondes out again.

"You're not a very good liar, you know that?"

"Oh, yes, and you are. Seeing as we're both here, we might as well share resources." Tuck replied, grabbing a chair and moving it so he was directly in front of the monitors.

_"They're the most incredible guys!" Rachel said._

"Guess I don't have a choice. Please, sit down." FDR said, sarcastically as Tuck did just that.

"Oh, I'm staying."

_"Okay, good, good. Well, I'm available as a friend. If you want me to have sex with both of those guys just to test out stuff and see who comes back a winner and who doesn't…"_

* * *

"Okay, good, good. Well, I'm available as a friend. If you want me to have sex with both of those guys just to test out stuff and see who comes back a winner and who doesn't and they wouldn't even know it was me. I'd pretend I was you. I'd put my hair up in a pony," Trish rambled off a plan that she knew I wouldn't agree to anyway. She lived in this wonderful dream world and I give her points for that.  
"Obviously I'm busy, because I'm a mother, but I would carve out time in my schedule because that's the kind of friend I am."

I exchanged a look with Lauren, before I looked back at Trish.

"Okay. I love you, Trish, but that's not helpful." I said, locking my phone again after Lauren passed it back to me. I placed it on the counter and looked at Lauren for help.

"We could do one of my focus groups I do at work. You can be the focus group and me and Trish can be in charge." Lauren suggested.

"That's actually a good idea! Let's do that." I replied, sipping on my wine and moving around the island so I was sitting next to Trish. Trish turned to face me and Lauren moved her seat so they were both looking towards me.

"Okay. This is good, I like this." Trish said, moving around in her chair to get comfortable.

"Okay, so we will ask you questions about the "products". And you tell us who you like and why." Lauren instructed me.

I nodded, and downed the rest of my wine before I spoke.

"They're both incredible."

"What a struggle. I have to go home and clean tartar sauce out of Bob's beard right now and probably one of his un-descended testicles and you're gonna sit here and talk to me about how amazing these guys are." Trish ranted, making me laugh.

"This is why I love you, Trish. You have a way of painting the most vivid picture of your weird but wonderful life." I teased her, grabbing the wine bottle and refilling my glass.

"Is there anything bad about these guys?" Lauren asked me, pulling my mind away from the disturbing mental image of Trish's husband Bob naked with a jar of tartar sauce. I've had better mental images.

"Okay, let me think. Flaws. Isn't it funny that I've known these guys for years, but I can't think of anything-" I cut myself off, and snapped my fingers as a helpful mental picture popped into my head. "There is one thing! FDR has these tiny, like, girl hands. Like little T-Rex hands."

"Oh, gross! That means he's got a Mike and Ike for a penis." Trish said, making me laugh.

"Actually no. I grew up with FDR, lived in the same house with him for years, and he had problems with locking the bathroom door. He's doesn't have a Mike and Ike. Trust me." I said, making Lauren giggle and Trish practically foam at the mouth. She was probably trying to visualise FDR naked.

"And Tuck…I don't know. Maybe he's too romantic. Like the relationship to him could be some whole fairy-tale romance with this perfect, happy ending. But at the same time, I kinda like that he's really romantic. A girl's got to feel special, you know?"

"So they're about the same, they're kind of even." Trish replied.

"So you've got to get into decision-making mode." Lauren instructed me.

"Yeah, and I need you to do it kind of quickly, because this is fun, but I'm not the one having sex. So I can't be that invested." Trish said, shrugging her shoulders.

As she mentioned time, an idea popped into my head.

"Okay. You know what I need?" I asked.

"Mm. A joint." Trish suggested, taking a large gulp of wine after she 'contributed'. I shook my head at her.

"No. I need a deadline. I've got to give myself a finite amount of time to make this decision."

"That's good." Lauren said.

"One week and I have to make a decision." I decided.

"One week?" Trish questioned.

* * *

FDR and Tuck exchanged a glance. They had a deadline to convince Rachel that she should choose them and not their best friend.

One week and counting.


	7. Chapter 7

"Okay, so Rachel Anne Simmonds was born in Arizona, but moved to Los Angeles when she was seven to go on to live in various orphanages and foster homes until the age of 12 when she was taken in by Agent Foster's grandparents. She graduated high school at the top of her class, with a full scholarship to several colleges, namely Princeton University, Columbia U, the University of Chicago and Stanford University. She joined the CIA, and passed her field agents exam with the highest recommendations from the examiners, who noted that her skills in both hand-to-hand combat and weapon combat surpassed their high expectations," Tuck's main technician and the head of his recon team told him. Most of it he already knew, but it didn't hurt to be reminded. "She's a fan of classic rock and collecting mini Camaros."

"What, as in the cars?" Tuck questioned, a plan forming in his head. Oh, Rachel was going to love this!

* * *

I don't know what spurred Tuck to do this, but I'm not going to complain. He showed up at my apartment, with a giant, pleased grin on his face, told me to change out of my sweats because he was taking me out. So I put on a nice pair of black skinny jeans, a red checkered top, and some black boots. After I brushed my hair up into a ponytail, we were out the door, in his car, and suddenly racing one of the sweetest Camaros I'd ever seen. I love a good Camaro. It's just one of those cars that always looks cool and is great to drive if it's kept in a great condition.

"Oh, my god, this is so fun!" I said, as I turned a corner, letting the rear drag out a little bit, causing a little bit of smoke to come off the tires.

"You're a natural in this." Tuck said, sounding a little nervous. I smirked at that. He knew my driving skills were amazing, but I was driving a little more recklessly and a little less controlled then I would in a car chase. Mostly because there were no civilians around.

"It's so weird. My ex-boyfriend used to collect these. He was one of those rich kids rebelling against their parents. But his were never as nice as this one, and he never let me drive them." I told him, as I gave the car a little more gas to work with. I watched the speedometer needle rise, and grinned to myself. This particular Camaro was so beautiful, and ran like a dream.

"I can't impossibly imagine why he wouldn't do that." Tuck teased me, and I laughed at him, until I heard what I thought was gun fire. I took my eyes off the track in front of me,

"What was that? Did you just shoot something?" I asked, my eyes alternating between him and the track in front of me. I was pretty sure it was gunfire, but Tuck wouldn't purposely lie to me. I had definitely heard something that sounded like gunfire.

"No. That was the exhaust backfiring. Give it some throttle. Go on!" Tuck encouraged, clearly wanting to get off the subject and distract me with the car.

"O-kay," I said, still not believing him, but seeing no reason as to why he would shoot something out in the middle of the racetrack, so I mentally shrugged off my paranoia. "Woohoo!"

I let go off the wheel for a second, throwing my hands up in the air, and Tuck quickly grabbed the wheel as if I was about to lose control of the car. I laughed and smacked his hands away, slowing down a tad so he'd stop having a heart attack. I smiled at him, and took one hand off the wheel to hold one of his.

"You need to relax!" I said, pressing on the gas again, slowly making the speedometer's needle rise. Tuck was watching it like a hawk as it hit 70 mph, and then 80, and I swear, I saw him have a brain aneurysm when the speedometer's needle pushed 90 mph. I grinned at his expression, and laughed out loud, but I was barely heard over the throaty growl of the engine.

I saw the beginning of the track and I hit the brakes, listening gleefully to the sound of the tires squealing before we came to a stop. I laughed at Tuck's panicked expression and climbed out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition for the owner who was waiting for us. Tuck came up behind me and wrapped his arm around my waist, leading me back to his car. He went to open the door for me, but I turned around to face him.

"That was a lot of fun. Thoughtful because you know I'm a car fanatic. Thank you." I said, tip-toeing slightly so I could press my lips against his. Tuck responded within seconds, his hands gripping my waist as mine locked together behind his head. Tuck was an amazing kisser, better than I'd imagined he would have been. Eventually I pulled away with a satisfied smile on my face.

"I'm thinking I should have asked you out years ago." Tuck said, not taking his hands away from my waist, so we stayed put.

"Maybe you should have."

Tuck kissed me again softer than the first, before pulling away and letting me go, much to my bitter disappointment. You know that unsatisfied feeling when you do something but then its over too soon and you kinda wanted it to go further? Yeah. It sucks.

Tuck took me home and kissed me goodbye at the door, and we both ignored the parts of ourselves that wanted to take it further, and he left with all of his clothes on.

* * *

"She volunteers at dog shelters with her friend Lauren when she has time off. She favors red wine when she's got female company, beer with male company and scotch or Russian vodka when she's alone. She likes lavender bath salts and she collects posters by Gustav Klimt." FDR's main technician, Bothwick, who was also his head of 'operations', read out loud to him from the information they'd gathered or observed about Rachel. No one knew exactly why they were re-conning one of their own agents or what connection she had to their current case, but they went along with it anyway. Mostly out of hope they'd get paid for over time.

"Huh?"

"Yeah. Austrian cat. Boy can paint. Ain't you never seen The Kiss? You know, like that…" Bothwick started imitating two people kissing and FDR looked down at him from where he was sitting up on the desk.

"Yeah, of course I have." FDR replied, and he realized what his next date with Rachel had to be. Something that she normally wouldn't have the opportunity to do, and probably wouldn't even think of doing herself. Something special.

* * *

So FDR hadn't given up on the whole idea of us dating, so when he told me he had a surprise for me, I was a little wary about it. He took me to a warehouse, and, despite knowing him for years and trusting him with my life, I was comforted by the feeling of the small pistol I had strapped to my leg underneath my red dress. I was always prepared.

He led me through this giant crate maze, until we turned a corner and he stopped, allowing me to bask in the brilliance of several Gustav Klimt paintings.

"Is this what I think it is?" I questioned, walking forward, my eyes flickering to each painting, soaking it all in.

"You're a fan, right?" FDR asked me.

"Of Gustav Klimt?"

"Of Gustav Klimt. He's my favourite artist."

"You don't like art, Franklin. Unless it's nude art," I teased him, throwing a smile at him so he would know that I was joking. "He's my favourite artist. This is incredible. Are these real?"

"Yeah."

We walked closer the paintings, and FDR pointed at the smallest one that we were closest too.

"Do you recognise this? The Harpist, 1895?"

"Yes. I've seen it in a book."

"Pre-secession movement. The tension between the two-and three-dimensionality is incredible," He waved me over to another painting, and I was stunned. How? How did FDR know all of this? FDR? I must've hit my head really hard and not realised it, because clearly I was experiencing some sort of concussion induced hallucinations or I was dreaming in a coma. "This is my favourite."

"Undine, 1902."

"Oh, my goodness, this is amazing." I breathed as I stared at Klimt's painting. It was beautiful.

"Innovation became intrinsic to Degas and other modernists. You can see influence of art nouveau," FDR explained, still surprising me with all his knowledge until he carried on speaking. "He was a strong advocate of the finger-painting movement."

"What?" I asked, tearing my eyes of the art and to him.

FDR started to stumble over his words and stopped making any sense. All I really took out of it was he thought Gustav Klimt sometimes used mud and sticks and his hands and he used something else when he couldn't find a stick, but he stopped himself from making an even bigger ass out of himself.

"You know, I think enough talking," He said, stepping backwards to a painting covered with a sheet. "Let's let the paintings speak for themselves."

He yanked the sheet off and uncovered The Kiss. I stared up at it, smiling at the beauty of it, barely aware that FDR had moved away and was by my side.

"Wow. It's so beautiful," I turned to him, and slid my hand down his arm until I was holding his hand. I looked back at the painting and rested my head on FDR's shoulder as I soaked it all in. Gustav Klimt was a genius. "It's amazing. Just incredible."

"Yeah. It is." FDR agreed.

"Thank you." I said, looking up at him.

"Anything for you, Rach." He replied, staring down into my eyes, almost sucking me into his baby blues. God, why did they have to be blue? Why not brown? Boring brown eyes that looked like mud, instead of bright blue eyes that sparkled like the Caribbean sea.

This made my decision making more difficult.

* * *

That night when I went home I called Lauren.

_"How did it go?_" Lauren asked me, as I moved around my kitchen, my phone stuck between my ear and my shoulder and my hands grabbing ingredients for my dinner.

"They both went well. Too well. I don't know what to do."

_"I'm coming over. Give me fifteen minutes and have the wine open."_

"Got it."

I hung up the phone, and put away all the food I'd just dragged out of my cabinets and my fridge. I'd probably end up having take-out anyway. I grabbed a bottle of wine from my fridge and two glasses and opened the wine, ready and waiting for Lauren to get here. But while I waited, I had a mini panic attack, and questioned the morality of what I was doing. Dating my two best friends? What kind of masochistic moron did that? Well...me, obviously, but why was I doing this to myself and to Tuck and FDR? It was stupid, and frustrating, and so unfair to everyone involved.

I drank my glass of wine to cool my nerves, before pouring another. The doorbell rang and I rushed to get it, eager to get Lauren's advice.

* * *

"Alright, go up on 5. Let's pump the audio a little bit." FDR instructed Bothwick, as the watched the monitors. Rachel was in her kitchen, waiting for her friend, already drinking a glass of wine as she waited.

"Are you sure about this, sir? We might have some constitutional issues here." Bothwick warned, before he did anything. Though he knew his 'boss' would have some retort that would make what they were doing okay.

"Patriot Act." FDR replied.

"It's not just that, sir, but if Agent Simmonds finds out that we've bugged her house and listened in on her conversations…she'll kill us all." Bothwick said, and FDR knew that it was a possibility. If there was anything that Rachel disliked more than groomers, it was her privacy being invaded. Once FDR had gone through her desk, looking to see if she'd hidden his and Tuck's Christmas gifts in there, but she'd caught him and he had quickly found himself on the floor with a knife pressed against his throat. Rachel was a great, sweet girl, but she was deadly too. She had taken lessons in more than just the combat training they received when they had joined the CIA. She had learnt all sorts of martial arts, and her gymnastics only helped her become even more deadly.

"I promise she won't find out. Now could you just-" FDR trailed off, gesturing at the monitor. Bothwick sighed, and pressed the button that would bump up the audio, just in time for Rachel to sit down at her kitchen island with her friend.

_"So how was it?"_ Lauren asked her.

_"They're both incredible. FDR has these amazing eyes that you just wanna melt into. So beautiful. He really challenges me, you know. But I've known him since I was twelve. He's that guy who's always on, he's super slick. Sometimes, I think he doesn't care about anything more than himself. Even when we were kids, he looked out for his best interests," Rachel explained, occasionally sipping her wine between sentences. "You could never get him to do anything if it didn't benefit him, but I used to try work around that."_

FDR stared at the monitor. He didn't realise that she felt that way, or that he was like that until she pointed it out.

"Didn't you say she volunteered at dog shelters?" FDR asked Bothwick.

"Yeah?"

"Where's the nearest shelter?"

* * *

This was getting stranger. FDR picked me up in the morning and took me to work, and after pretty much disappearing all day, while I did most of the work on the Heinrich case, he asked me for my help with something. Of course I agreed, and somehow we ended up at a pet shelter. A pet shelter of all places was somewhere I would not have guessed, even in my wildest, weirdest dreams, that FDR would take me or even know where one was. As far as I knew, FDR was not an animal person. He'd never really taken an interest in Nana's horses, but that could just be because he thought they weren't a very masculine animal, but who knows?

"What are we doing at a pet shelter?" I questioned, as we headed inside.

"Well, they say it's a sanctuary for them, but its really more of sanctuary for me." FDR answered, holding my hand as we walked in. There was a cute little dog being groomed in front of us, and I heard the barks of several more dogs in cages around the room.

"I didn't know that you volunteered at a dog shelter," I said, as I glanced around at all the dogs in their cages. I grinned at him. "This is amazing. Franklin Foster volunteering at a dog shelter. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I probably would have hit you on the back of the head for lying to me."

"Well, I don't really broadcast it. The guys at work would laugh at me."

"I just had no idea you were so passionate about animals." I remarked, as we walked around the cages, getting a closer look at all of the adorable, abandoned dogs and puppies. FDR glanced down at me, and I raised an eyebrow at him as I waited for a reply.

"Yeah. Animals and kids."

"Well I knew about the kids part. Joe adores his Uncle Frank."

"Exactly. I guess there are a lot of things you don't know about me." FDR replied.

"I guess so." I smiled up at him, running my free hand up and down his arm.

"So…do you wanna help me pick one out?" FDR asked. I looked at him in surprise, my eyes widening and my mouth dropping slightly.

"You're gonna adopt a dog? And risk ruining your bachelor pad? Dogs shed hair, you know? And chew things. A lot." I warned him, not really understanding why he wanted to adopt a dog. I mean, okay I just found out he had a love for animals. Growing up, he'd never really expressed an interest either way, but maybe he just hid it so he didn't get teased or something.

"I just think it's time for me to be responsible for something other than myself, you know?" FDR smiled at me, and I felt myself melting under his soft blue-eyed gaze. FDR was growing up. I mean, it only took him thirty years to do it, but it was so sweet.

"Wow, that's so great." I said, kissing him quickly, before I pulled away to smile at him.

"Okay. Let's pick the saddest, oldest bastard here." FDR said. I pulled a face, but didn't say anything. I let him lead me round until we found this cute, grey dog with the saddest face ever. Of course, FDR adopted that one, and I picked out some of the stuff he'd need to look after it; a dog bed, lead, poop scoop, dog treats, flea shampoo and a dog brush.

FDR didn't really think it through when he brought us here in his two seat convertible so I had his dog on my lap, and he forced all of the added extras to fit in his tiny trunk.

When we got to his place, I helped him set the dog up and stayed to show him how to groom him and stuff, before I went home. It was one of the weirdest and cutest dates I'd been on. I never knew that FDR really wanted that kind of domestic life. Because getting a dog was very domestic-y, and it was a huge responsibility. And up until a few days ago, I would have said that Franklin was not ready for that kind of responsibility, but now...he was changing. And I want to say for the good, but I still loved the Franklin that he used to be. The older Franklin was just not someone I would have dated on a long-term basis.

But he was maturing, and he seemed happier for it, so maybe I should just be happy for him.

* * *

_(conversation continued from before)_

_"Okay. So what about Tuck?" Lauren asked Rachel._

Tuck waited to hear Rachel's answer, as he leaned against the wall of his own recon room whilst watching the monitors. He watched as Rachel paused for a second before she answered her friends question, as though she was carefully thinking through her words. It was almost as if she knew he was listening in and was choosing her words so that she didn't hurt his feelings.

_"Tuck is great. He's sweet, he's kind and we always have so much fun,"_ Tuck chuckled at that, feeling like he had achieved something._ "More fun than I've ever had with anyone my entire life. But he's maybe too sweet? A little earnest? Maybe the safe option."_

_"Yeah. That's boring. I almost fell asleep just listening to that." Lauren replied._

Tuck moved forward, closer to the monitor, and held his hand over his mouth.

"Safe." He repeated, as if he'd never heard the word before. Well, at least not associated with him.

* * *

Tuck was taking me paint-balling. I had to admit when he told me, I almost laughed. We get to shoot real guns with real bullets at real people all the time, but I guess that was the fun in going to paintball. There was no real consequence to shooting someone with a paintball pellet, except for some nasty bruises the next day. Another thing that made me laugh about the whole thing was I put on an old grey t-shirt and a pair of dungarees with some combat boots and Tuck still told me I looked beautiful. He was adorable and charming and I was still in love with that British accent. Every compliment he gave me

"Okay, I think I'm ready, Tuck. This will be fun." I said, walking towards him.

"No. This is not fun," He said, looking at me with a serious expression on his face. "It's dangerous."

I quirked an eyebrow at that, and bit my lip to stop myself from laughing as Tuck pulled apart a pair of camouflage curtains, and revealed the carnage, the war zone that was the paintball arena. I stared at it.

"This looks like the watered down version of Bangladesh," I muttered to myself. Bangladesh had not been a walk in a park, let me tell you. Tuck nudged me back slightly before he jumped onto a wooden bar, and swung himself so he kicked a guy in the face. I winced, but stared at Tuck in shock, as he carried on as if her were in an actual war zone. He kicked a guy in the stomach and knocked him over, before he leaned over a wooden bridge and shot someone underneath it. "Oh, my god. We are totally getting sued."

Tuck looked back at me, staring at him in shock and waved me over.

"Come on, Rach." He called, looking down his scope for another target. I nodded, and spurred into action. I dropped the goggles the guy had given me. I didn't need them, and they'd probably just end up annoying me. I dropped into a defensive crouch and quickly moved forwards towards Tuck, where he was waiting behind a small wall.

He checked that the coast was clear before he waved us forward.

"Clear. We're coming out. Okay, come on." He instructed me, and I was still somewhat in shock at his display earlier so I just followed him without question.

"Get him!" A kid yelled, and was quickly taken out by Tuck, the force of the blows knocking him off his feet.

"I'm glad that we didn't bring Joe." I muttered to myself, staying behind another wall, while I watched Tuck single-handedly take out three more amateur paintball enthusiasts and a kid probably here for a birthday party.

"No head shots! That's illegal!" A man shouted, and I winced. Yep, we were so getting sued.

"Oh, my god." I said, out loud.

Tuck was so focused on taking everyone out that most of the kids who were playing hid in an underground fort-like structure. He didn't even realize that I stopped following him after a while. I just sat on the wall, watching as he threw a paint grenade into their hiding spot, listened to their yells of fright as it exploded all over them, and then Tuck moved onto the next guy. There were a couple of stragglers who tried to take me out, but I got those quickly, without causing too much damage.

Tuck hopped across these logs to a tree fort, where the flag that would end the session was. He tossed this guy off of the fort, sending him tumbling to the ground, and grabbed the flag. He held it up and looked down at me from where I was standing, still kind of shell shocked.

He jumped down and I jogged towards him.

"Did you see me light that up?" Tuck asked me, slightly out of breath.

"Okay-"

"That boy came right out of nowhere."

"You were disturbingly…I dunno. I wanna say good or fast or aggressive, but I'm kind of in shock. You do remember that this is not Bangladesh or Kandahar or Moscow, but a paintball tournament, right?" I breathed.

"Yeah, how does that make you feel?" Tuck asked me, grinning and pointing at me once, before he started to catch his breath again.

"Like if our nation gets attacked by random kids with paintball guns, I'll be safe."

"Safe." Tuck repeated, but I carried on talking as if I hadn't heard him.

"I tried to have your back there. I got off a few shots, but I don't think it mattered either way. I felt like we were back in Bangladesh or Singapore. Remember how terrifying Singapore was? You scared the absolute shit out of me in Singapore." I rambled, trying to get all the shock I felt out of my system. I shouldn't really be shocked at the display I just saw, but I just didn't see it happening at an innocent game of paintball.

"Really?"

"Yeah! Do you not remember that? I was trying to work my magic with the drug lord, he put his hands on me, then you and FDR burst in, all guns a-blazing, nearly getting us all killed, and you took out half of the guys there. My friend, Lauren, wanted us to go to Singapore for this crazy girls adventure last year. I couldn't do it, because every time she mentioned it, I had terrifying flashbacks."

"Yeah?" Tuck beamed, as though it was a victory. "Well, then. Let's go get something to eat."

He grabbed me by the hand and led me away, and I was still too confused and surprised to argue with him. I'd have to report back to Lauren and tell her that 'safe' was not a word I'd use when talking about Tuck anymore. Never again would I say that. Never. Nope. Not again.


	8. Chapter 8

I was sat next to Lauren and Trish in a playpen as Trish's kids were running wild with a bunch of other kids.

"So you know how I was telling you that Tuck has been really earnest?" I asked Lauren and she nodded. Trish sat up at the mention of the men I was sort of dating. I was dating Tuck, but I don't know whether or not I think I'm dating FDR. I mean we've kissed, and he keeps taking me out on dates, but I don't know whether I want to admit that it's dating. I feel terrible enough without admitting it. "Well, the other day, we went paintballing and he nearly put this kid's eye out with a paintball gun. And then FDR, we went to this animal shelter and he adopted a 12-year-old dog with a milky eye. I'm telling you, it's getting weird. I can't help but thinking that I'm putting them in this position. It's making us all crazy."

"So, what are you going to do about it?" Trish asked me, chewing on one of her son's sweets. Lauren sipped on a juice box as she waited for me to answer Trish's question. I stared ahead of myself, not really seeing anything, as I thought about what I should do. Lauren obviously got tired of waiting for me to make a decision so began telling me what I should do.

"I think you have to do what any rational woman in your position would do." Lauren said.

"Break up with them?" Trish suggested.

"Sleep with them," Lauren answered. Trish and I turned our heads to stare at her. "Sex tiebreaker."

"Oh, thank you! Finally!" Trish pretty much yelled as she rejoiced at Lauren's words, even though I hadn't agreed to them yet. "Finally! A sex tiebreaker! That is what you need to do! You have to have sex with both of them! Thank you!"

I looked around at all the little kids and mothers that Trish's loud rant about sex tiebreakers had just terrified or pissed off. There were little kids crying and mothers' hands tight over children's ears, and Trish seemed oblivious.

One mother made a noise of disgust, and Trish snapped at her.

"What? It's called the birds and the bees, bitch, okay? Google it."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I have to sleep with them. I can't think of any other way to decide. I mean, someone, please, tell me another way to decide and I will totally give it a shot," I said, ignoring the glares we were receiving from every other woman in this place. Lauren and Trish were both silent for a minute before shrugging. "I guess it's going to have to be a sex-tiebreaker."

Tuck and FDR stared at the monitors dumbfounded. They'd tracked Rachel and her two blonde friends to a children's play area, and had listened to their entire conversation. They stared at the screen for a second, before they spun around in their chairs to face each other.

"We had a deal." FDR stated.

"Well, we have a deal. We have a deal." Tuck replied, scoffing slightly.

"I'm not gonna have sex with her." FDR said, though his mind was travelling down a completely different road.

"And I am not gonna have sex with this woman either." Tuck said, pointing towards the screens that displayed Rachel sipping on a kid's juice carton as the three women supervised the older woman's kids as they played.

"No matter how hard she tries. We have a gentleman's agreement." FDR reminded them.

"We do. We have a gentleman's agreement. And we are gentlemen. Okay?" Tuck replied, his voice breaking towards the end of his sentence, as though he was unsure whether or not they were gentlemen. Well he knew that FDR certainly wasn't.

"Ha-ha-ha. Okay." FDR said, holding his hand out for Tuck to shake. Tuck gripped his partner's hand, and they shook hands firmly.

"Okay." Tuck repeated, still shaking FDR's hand.

"Good." FDR said, as they finally let go and both looked down at their watches, looking for an excuse to get away from each other and to their individual recon rooms to plan their prevention tactics.

"That the time?" Tuck said.

"Yeah, I got that thing." FDR replied, as they both rose from their seats, and moved quickly away.

"I've got somewhere to be at this time." Tuck mumbled in reply.

Bothwick and Boyles were waiting for their 'bosses' outside the room, and they split and began walking behind the two determined men.

FDR gave instructions to Bothwick as they walked back to his recon room.

"Full-scale tactical prevention mode." FDR ordered.

"What exactly do you have in mind?"

Tuck had taken me out to dinner after work, and then we went back to his apartment. When we got inside there was candles lit everywhere, and it looked very romantic. I wondered who he'd gotten to do all of this while we were out, because he'd been with me all day.

"Wow, this is amazing." I said, as I walked in backwards to try spot anything else he might of added to his apartment since the last time I'd been in here. I noticed the soft jazz that was playing over the speakers and smiled. It was a very romantic atmosphere, very Tuck.

"Indeed. Do you think the candles are a bit cheesy?" He asked, as he led me to the middle of the room by my hand.

"No, I think they're wonderful," I answered, as Tuck tugged me into his body gently, and wrapped his arms around my back. I trailed my hands up his chest, before curling my arms around his neck, and leaning in closer to him. "This has been the perfect night."

I pressed my mouth to his, softly at first, but applied more pressure as Tuck eliminated the remaining space between our bodies.

This was it. Now or never. I was going to sleep with Tuck and that would help me make my decision.

FDR watched the monitors as his two best friends kissed, noting that things were getting quite heated according to the thermal monitor. Time to stop it.

"Dickerman…make it rain."

Tuck was peppering kisses on my neck when, suddenly, water cascaded down on us, soaking everything in the apartment including us. The candles were put out and so was the mood.

I gasped as I stared up at Tuck, shocked at the sudden onslaught of water. Tuck looked kind of pissed as though someone had turned on the sprinklers on purpose. It was probably because of all the candles. As the fire detection system gets older, sometimes they get more sensitive to minor open flames.

I burst out laughing as it continued, finding the whole thing hilarious.

"This isn't funny, Rach." Tuck insisted, but I couldn't stop laughing.

"I'm sorry, I am, but it's a little bit funny." I said, trying to stop myself from giggling anymore, but the laughter just kept on coming, so I buried my face in his shoulder and just hugged him as I forced the chuckles, giggles and laughter down and locked it away.

The sprinklers eventually shut off, and I managed to reign in my giggling. I looked up at Tuck, and asked him an important question.

"Do I look like a drowned rat?"

It had the desired effect because Tuck chuckled, lifting his hands to my face to rub away some of my running mascara.

"You look beautiful." He said, planting a quick, soft kiss on my lips before we parted.

"Thank you. We should start trying to save your stuff before it gets ruined." I said, looking around at the flooded apartment.

Tuck would probably need to buy new electrical everything, but we managed to save his books and furniture. It would have been a funny sight, walking into the apartment and seeing me blow-drying Tuck's books dry with a hair dryer we borrowed from the woman who lived next door to him. Most of his clothes were dry so we changed out of our sopping wet ones and into fresh, dry clothes. I borrowed a sweat shirt, a pair of his boxers and some sweat pants that I had to roll up at the bottom so I didn't fall over the ends.

Tuck drove me home, and walked me to my apartment door, handing me the plastic bag with my damp clothes in.

"Wasn't exactly the best end to the perfect night, was it?" He questioned with a chuckle.

I just smiled, and kissed him, soft and slow.

"I wouldn't say that," I murmured as I pulled away, staring up into his blue eyes. "Goodnight, Tuck."

"Goodnight, Rach." He replied, placing a quick kiss on my mouth before he stepped backwards until he reached the elevator. I opened the door to my apartment and gave him a quick wave before I went in.

I leaned back against my front door, my fingers pressed against my lips, a smile spreading across my face that was caused by nothing. I can think of worse ways to end a perfect night than a great kiss with a gorgeous man.

Tuck and Boyles walked towards his recon room in silence until Boyles asked him a question.

"You really think you can trust him?" Boyles questioned, looking down at his superior as they walked. Tuck had an air of determination around him, and contemplated the answer to his lackey's question quickly.

"Absolutely not."

FDR took me out for dinner that following night, which went well, and then took me back to his apartment. We were reminiscing about an old mission as we walked in and I immediately noticed how clean his apartment was. It wasn't usually untidy, per se, but with the new dog, I guess I was expecting some mess. Then again the dog was old and half blind so it probably didn't get up to much mischief when FDR wasn't around.

"Okay. I believe you." FDR told me, as he turned and leaned against his kitchen island, pulling me towards him, so I was pressed up against him. He kissed me and I let him, until I pulled away.

"I'll be right back." I smiled at him, before walking away to his bathroom, where I would proceed to have a panic attack and question my integrity and the morality of what I was doing.

FDR watched Rachel walk away, before he grabbed a bottle of wine and two wine glasses and rushed over to his couch. He placed the items on his coffee table, before turning on his stereo. Sade's "Smooth Operator" played over the speakers and gave the room a certain vibe. FDR then lit a candle, and almost sat on his dog when he tried to sit on the couch.

"Come on, scram. Let's go." He shooed the dog away, rolling his eyes at the animal when it growled lowly at him as it padded away.

FDR stood, waiting for Rachel, when he felt something sharp hit him in the neck. He groaned and grabbed at the mysterious object.

"God," He hissed as he yanked it out of his skin, revealing a tranquilizer dart. He looked up out of his window and just about made out his partner on the roof of the building opposite his apartment. "Son of a-"

He slowly sunk down onto one knee, as the tranquilizer kicked in, and shifted so he was on the couch. Seconds later he was unconscious, with his head slumped backwards and his arms splayed wide, his hand still clenched around the dart that drugged him.

I came out of the bathroom, grinning when I heard Sade on the stereo. FDR had a not-so-secret love for Sade and I'm pretty sure that it's his go to music for when he wanted to get someone in the mood. That grin was quickly wiped off my face as I noticed FDR passed out on the couch.

"Franklin?" I questioned.

The only response I received was a soft snore. I narrowed my eyes at the unconscious man, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Really, FDR?"

I stood there for a second, before moved to the coffee table and blew out the candle, grabbing the stereo remote and stopping the music. I grabbed my purse , pulling my phone out and calling a cab. It arrived pretty quickly and got me home just as quick too. I tipped the driver as I climbed out and hurried into my apartment.

This night didn't end as well as last night.

How could he have fallen asleep so fast? I wasn't even in the bathroom for that long. Something didn't feel right about it, but I shrugged it off. FDR was probably just tired. He and Tuck had been staying late at the office on-and-off, doing God knows what, but maybe that's why FDR fell asleep.

Well that'd better be the reason or I'm gonna kill him.

Tuck and FDR were arguing in the elevator that led to the detainment level at headquarters.

"A tranq dart! A tranq dart. Three inches over, I would've been dead." FDR hissed at his partner.

"Four," Tuck countered, holding up four fingers. "Four inches, okay?"

They both tried to get out of the elevator at the same time but got stuck, which fuelled the animosity between them even further.

"Neanderthal." FDR growled as he let Tuck pass first.

"Good morning, sirs." A low-level agent greeted them.

"Shut up, Jenkins!" They snapped in unison.

"Jesus. I cannot believe you didn't trust me." FDR complained, stopping so that Tuck would have to face him.

"You were listening to Sade. We both know what happens when you listen to Sade." Tuck accused, pointing a finger in FDR's direction as they squared up to one another.

"She's an incredible singer." FDR insisted.

"Indeed she is, but your hormones start going and you turn into Captain Horny Pants," Tuck said, continuing over the top of FDR's protests. He poked FDR in the chest to regain his attention. "And might I remind you…you were the one who flooded my apartment first."

"Those candles were a fire hazard."

"No. The only thing you were worried about getting fired up was Rachel, wasn't it?" Tuck questioned rhetorically. "Honesty, Franklin. Try it."

He left FDR to follow him as he headed to Ivan's cell.

"Right!" He said, raising his voice. He pulled his jumper off and placed it on one of the tables that were either side of Ivan (but far enough away that he couldn't reach anything should he get a hand free). He grabbed a pair of pliers before he walked towards a silent Ivan. "Now, I have very serious anger management issues today, Ivan, so I would appreciate it if you'd do me the courtesy of answering all my terribly boring questions sharpish."

He waved the pliers in Ivan's direction.

"Heh, heh. The pliers, really?" FDR questioned.

"Yes, the pliers, really."

"Predictable, safe and boring yet again." FDR taunted him.

"Why don't you tickle Ivan's feet till he talks with your teeny, tiny itty-bitty jazz hands?" Tuck retaliated, not realising that Rachel had entered the room, and was listening to their conversation. As her two partners stared each other down, she walked forward, pushed them out of her way and kicked Ivan in the chest, knocking him over while he was still tied to the chair.

She walked around the chair until she was standing directly next to his head, and pressed her heel against his neck slightly.

"Where is Heinrich, brother?" She questioned him in fluent Serbian, ignoring the two shocked faces of Tuck and FDR. She guessed they really were so absorbed in their petty squabbling that they didn't even notice her approach until she was pushing them away.

"_Sooner or later he'll be coming for you. Sister_," Ivan replied in his native tongue, wincing as Rachel pressed down a little sharper. He continued in English. "You are going to die."

Rachel, Tuck and FDR stared down at him, emotionless masks slipping onto their faces.

"Don't worry, you two will be next." He said, aiming his words at Tuck and FDR.

Rachel stepped off of his throat, and stood on one of the chair legs so the chair sharply turned upright again. Ivan hissed in pain, but said nothing else, but watched as the American woman grabbed a chair and sat in front of him, crossing her legs in a slow, seductive way. She pulled a cigarette out of her jacket pocket and placed it between her lips, lighting it before she replaced the lighter in her jacket.

"You guys can go. I think Ivan and I need some special one-on-one time." The woman told the two men. Ivan watched in amusement as the shorter man passed her the pliers, mumbled an apology and turned on his heel and left. The other man stared her down until she blew smoke in his direction. He narrowed his eyes at her before leaving as well.

"So, Ivan, you wouldn't answer my colleagues' questions, so I'm hoping you'll answer mine." I said, taking the cigarette out of my mouth and exhaling the smoke. I turned the cig around and placed it between his lips, letting have a couple of drags before I took it back again.

"What makes you so certain that I'll answer your questions, woman?" He questioned.

"Because I know men, Ivan. There hasn't been one man that they've brought into this room that hasn't given me the answers I want, one way or another. So you've got three options. Number one, you cooperate completely by telling us where Heinrich is and what he's planning and we'll send you on your way to a lovely single cell with a nice TV and special privileges. Number two, you don't cooperate and I'll break a bone in your body for each question that goes unanswered." I said, stubbing the cigarette out on the arm of my chair, and standing up.

Ivan's eyes followed me as I replaced the pliers in the box, and shrugged my jacket off. I moved back to my chair and sunk into it, leaning forward with my arms resting on my knees.

"And what is option three?" He asked, curiosity burning in his eyes.

"Number three, you still don't cooperate and I shoot you."

"Kill me and you won't get your answers." Ivan laughed.

"Who said anything about killing you?" I questioned, pulling my gun out from the waistband of my jeans, and holding it casually in my lap.

"You said you'd shoot me."

"Yes. First I'll put a bullet through your foot and work my way up from there. Have you ever heard a man's screams, Ivan, when someone shoots him in the groin? It's loud," I said, leaning forward again, and smirking at him as I watched his eyes follow the gun as I moved it so it pointed towards his lap. "Luckily for everyone else in the building, we had this room soundproofed."

Ivan's eyes showed he was nervous but his face was impassive, conveying no emotion. If it weren't for his eyes I wouldn't know that he was scared.

_"So tell me, brother, where is Heinrich?"_ I questioned in Serbian.

_"He'll be with us soon. And he'll have his revenge._"

I shrugged my shoulders and smirked at Ivan, who stared at me as I stood up from my seat.

"We'll see. When Heinrich gets here, I'll tell him that he needs to find better henchmen," I said, as I moved the chair back to where it was, before I turned to Ivan again. "The ones he has are lousy shots and talk too much."

I grabbed my jacket and Tuck's sweater, and left Ivan to stew. The doors closed behind me, locking him in there again, and Tuck and FDR were waiting for me. I wordlessly handed Tuck his sweater and move to walk off, but FDR grabbed my wrist and stopped me.

"So?" He questioned.

"Heinrich is probably in the LA area or making his way here," I replied, holding back all the questions I had for them. Like 'what the hell was that?', 'are you both complete morons?' and 'seriously, what the fuck was that?'. I knew that they were arguing because of me, and I felt terrible about it.  
"I'm going to talk to Collins. You guys go hack into LA harbour's database. Every boat that docks is recorded and accounted for. What date it arrived, what time, who arrived on it…if Heinrich is in LA, he got in through the harbour."

They nodded and I went to walk away again, but Tuck's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"I'm sorry, Rach, for my behaviour in there. It wasn't professional."

"Yeah, me too. I'm really sorry." FDR added.

I turned around.

"It's fine. You're stressed, I'm stressed. Tensions are running high. We just need to work everything out and everything will be fine," I replied, quietly, mostly trying to reassure myself that everything would be fine. "I'm gonna go talk to Collins. You guys get to work."

This time when I walked away, I carried on going, ignoring everyone who tried to engage me in conversation. I headed to Collins' office, and knocked before entering.

"Rachel. Did we learn anything from our guest?"

"I think that Heinrich is in LA. I think Ivan was a distraction to keep us from checking out the harbour, and Heinrich used that distraction to come into the state."

"Get Tuck and FDR-"

"To check the records of the harbour. I've got them on it, boss."

Collins nodded, and looked at me expectantly when I didn't turn and leave.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Agent Simmonds?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow at me. I sighed, and crossed my arms over my chest, really thinking it through before I answered.

"Yes, actually. Um, I was thinking that I want to be transferred to solo ops."


	9. Chapter 9

Nana called me and asked me to go to dinner at the house, so FDR picked me up and took me. I wore a white summer dress, with a dark blazer and white flats, and FDR told me I looked stunning. I didn't really want us to show up together. I didn't really want to go at all. Nana had a way of knowing everything. So when I showed up, she was gonna take one look at me and know that I was dating someone, and then she'd ask who and I'd try desperately to change the subject, but she wouldn't budge because she was a stubborn, old lady. The one good thing about going to Nana's is Franklin bought pie.

So FDR and I walked up the drive to Nana's house, watching in amusement as his young cousin who always had the bucket on his head fell over. Making it to the door without having a panic attack, I knocked and, moments later, Nana opened the door.

"Hello, dears."

"Hey, Nana." We managed to say in unison. Nana looked at us, scrutinising us and thankfully, due to my CIA training, I resisted the urge to squirm uncomfortably.

"I brought pie!" FDR said, to break the silence.

"Yeah, well, you know where the kitchen is. Rachel and I have a lot to talk about." Nana said, as reached out the door and took my hand, pulling me inside. I glared back at FDR, signing to him that I was going to kill him.

Nana led me through the house and out to the stables. The stables were my favourite part of the house. Nana taught me to ride when I was a teenager, and I'd spent most of my time that I wasn't doing gymnastics or cheerleading in the stables, helping Nana muck out the horses.

"It's nice out today, isn't it?" Nana asked, making small talk. This was step one of the interrogation. We stepped into the stables, and my eyes immediately went to the wall where there were pictures of us when we were younger.

"I still can't believe FDR had that unibrow. It looks as though it goes all the way around his head," I joked, my eyes moving down and spotting a picture of me that I didn't recognise. There was a child that was clearly me, but there was a beautiful, blonde woman crouched down next to me that I didn't recognise. "Where did this come from? I look about four in this photo."

Nana looked away from Dottie, her horse, and glanced at the picture.

"You don't remember this picture? You brought it here with you. Didn't let it out of your sight for three weeks." Nana answered me.

"Who's the woman in the picture?" I asked.

"We always thought it was your mother. We showed the photo to your social worker, but she didn't recognise her. There's a name on the back of it. Annie Smith. We tried to research her, but there are too many Smith's to find the right one." Nana explained, as I continued staring at the picture. I ran away from my father when I was seven, moving from orphanage to foster home and back again until I ended up in LA and was fostered by my Nana and Grandpa. I can't remember my mother at all. If it was her in the photo, it was probably the last time she came around, because I have no recollection of her whatsoever.

"Do you mind if I take it?" I asked, glancing at Nana as she stroked Dottie's nose.

"Of course not, sweetheart, it's your picture!"

I pulled the pin out and took the photo down, replacing the pin in the wood afterwards. I moved forward and saw the pictures of FDR's parents. His mother was beautiful and his dad was handsome. He could harp on all he wanted about how God gifted him with good looks, but really it was just good genetics.

"Why'd you bring me out here, Nana?"

"I thought you might need to talk to me, dear. You had that look on your face," Nana answered, continuing to pet Dottie. I walked over to her so she could see my confusion. "When you were younger, I always knew when you needed to talk to me or you were confused or conflicted, because you had this look. So what are you confused or conflicted about?"

I stared at Nana for a moment, half-smiling at how wise she was.

"I, uh, I don't know what to do, Nana. Before you met Grandpa, did you ever love someone else?" I asked.

"Ah, this is love troubles. I knew those boys would see sense, but I was hoping it would just be one or the other, not both," Nana rambled. I was confused but put it down to age creeping up on her, because I had no idea what she was talking about. "You don't know which one to choose, do you?"

"No, I don't. I'm all messed up and confused. They're both incredible, and they both know pretty much everything about me, and I trust them both with my life. And each time I think I've made a decision, one of them does something to confuse me all over again."

"Sweetheart, I don't think that's it. I think you're afraid to pick who you want to be with because you don't want to lose the other." Nana said, wiping a tear away as it rolled down my cheek.

"If you were me, how would you know who to choose?" I asked her, trying to stop myself from crying, but failing.

"I'd choose the one I want to spend all my time with, the person who makes me the happiest, the one who knows I have flaws and loves me for them. Whomever you choose, the other man won't leave you."

"You can't know that, Nana."

"I do. They care about you, enough to give you this time to decide. They won't leave because you didn't choose them."

"Promise?" I asked, cracking a smile and wiping away a few more pesky tears that had managed to escape.

"I promise and if they do, they'll have to answer to me." Nana smiled at me, and pulled me into her arms. I nuzzled my face into her shoulder, thanking my lucky stars that she fostered me all those years ago, and held her tight.

"Thank you, Nana." I whispered to her.

"It's no problem, dear. You can always come to me with your problems, you know that?"

I pulled away and nodded, before asking her if it looked as though I'd been crying. She chuckled at me.

"It's barely noticeable, Rachel. If anyone asks, we'll tell them you have hay fever." Nana said, taking my arm and tugging me back out of the stable and towards the house.

One of FDR's cousins was here, and cooked dinner, so when Nana and I walked into the dining room, it was already on the table, waiting. FDR smiled at me, as Nana led me to my seat next to him, until I was sitting down next to him and he noticed the 'hardly noticeable' red rims around my eyes. He leaned closer to me to whisper in my ear.

"What's wrong?" His warm breath tickled my ear, and the corner of my mouth tilted up in a half smile at it. I turned my head, and looked at him. Franklin had grown up a lot these past few weeks. He was still immature at times, and insensitive at others, but he was working on it. I smiled at him, as he gazed at me with his blue eyes conveying concern.

"Nothing important." I replied, before I turned away, catching Nana's eye before I decided to just stare down at my plate of food.

Over dinner, we reminisced about our childhoods, with Nana cracking out a few stories about FDR that I didn't even know about. FDR just sat there, with his arm resting on the back of my chair, as Nana revealed all his most embarrassing secrets.

"He had the biggest blue eyes, like marbles, which almost made up for the bed-wetting." Nana said, making us all laugh at FDR's expense.

"Nana. We really don't have to talk about that right now." FDR said, moving his arm so his hand rested on my hip instead.

"Oh, I think we do." I replied.

"No, no, no."

"I think we should," I insisted, ignoring him completely as I encouraged Nana to continue. I was digging up a lot of dirt here that I could use against him in the future. Franklin kept protesting, but I cut him off. "I think we ought to."

"He wore that Superman costume everywhere. You wouldn't believe the smell. But how were we to know that he would take it so literally? The little fellow jumped off the roof."

I turned and looked at him as I laughed at him, so he could see how much I was enjoying this particular family gathering.

"I was given misinformation, okay? We all make mistakes. That was one of mine." Franklin said, defending himself. I was about to remind him of what he said to me at the pizza parlour on our 'first date', when Nana beat me to it.

"Yes, but remember, Franklin, there are no mistakes."

So that's where he got the line. Nana. I don't remember her imparting that certain philosophy on us when we were growing up.

I smiled, and picked up my wine glass.

"To no mistakes." I said, raising my glass. Everyone around the table repeated my words and clinked their glasses together. I smiled as FDR clinked his glass against mine, as he stared into my eyes. I turned away and sipped on my wine, but I could still feel his gaze, like it was burning holes into the side of my head.

It was a lovely meal, and I complimented FDR's cousin before we left. I hugged Nana and thanked her again for the advice, and FDR whisked me away to his car, annoying me with rapid-fire questions as to what I was thanking Nana for. Apparently 'it's none of your business' didn't get recognised by Franklin.

When he was walking me up to my apartment door, he was still asking me questions, so I distracted him by asking one of my own.

"So, wearing dresses?"

"I was only wearing them because I thought they were capes. The dresses." Franklin insisted, as we came to a stop at my door.

I smiled up at him.

"I had a nice time tonight."

"Me too."

"I like that guy with the unibrow and the braces. Reminded me of the old days. I think I might like him more than I like you." I joked, as FDR chuckled at me.

"Mm. He likes you too." We both laughed at him, until our laughter kinda slowed to a halt. I looked at my door, and hesitated. I wasn't sure what I wanted right now, for him to leave so I could at least pretend I still had some morals, or for him to stay.

There was a lot of tension between us, but I don't think it was the bad kind. We just stared at each other, deciding what to do, until FDR spoke.

"I, uh, I should go."

"Yeah."

"I should be a gentleman." He said, neither of us taking our eyes of each other.

"Yeah," I nodded, until a sudden impulse led me to continue speaking. "Well, the good new is I'm no gentleman."

I smirked at him, and then, as though that was one of the many code words we had come up with over the years, FDR's mouth was suddenly on mine. I stumbled backwards, but his hands kept me up right, as we pretty much fell into my apartment, shrugging our jackets off.

FDR pushed me up against the wall closest to the door, and pinned me there with his body. As our mouths battled for dominance, our hands roamed each others bodies. I started to unbutton his shirt, but quickly got distracted as he moved his mouth to attack my throat and neck instead. FDR tugged the hem of my dress up to my hips so I could wrap my legs around his waist as he lifted me up and carried me over to my kitchen island.

I moaned breathlessly into his mouth as I pushed his shirt of his shoulders. My mind was kind of muddled from all the hormones that were raging within me, so it didn't occur to me that this was a moral grey area. I just let FDR pull my dress up over my head and toss it away. I smirked at him, as his eyes raked hungrily over my half-naked body. He hoisted himself up onto the island and, pressing his mouth against mine in a searing hot kiss, tugged me towards him so I was practically straddling him.

I couldn't tell I was going to regret this tomorrow but, with FDR kissing me softly as he laid me back against the cold marble countertop, I didn't really care right now.

Boyles stared the monitor before looking at the other three agents who were manning the screens that night. Tuck wasn't there, so Boyles was in charge, and he didn't want to have to tell Tuck what was going down right now.

"This is not good. Not at all." He muttered nervously, taking out the disc that had the recording on and shoving it in the inner pocket of his suit's jacket. He would pretend something went wrong with the taping. He'd attempt to bluff his way out of it. Though the reason he was a techie was because he couldn't lie all that well.

"Oh, God, this is not good."

I woke up the next morning, and stretched my limbs which ached. A good kind of aching feeling, but I still felt the need to get up and stretch my limbs out properly. Yet when I went to move, something pinned me down. I looked down at my body and an arm was wrapped around my middle. I turned my head and Franklin was sound asleep beside me.

He was still asleep and here? I mean, it sounds harsh and horrible, considering that he was being a lot more mature recently, but Franklin was the dine and dash type, if you know what I mean. But realising that, and the fact he'd stayed, brought a smile to my face. I slowly lifted his arm off my body and moved myself off the bed, before lowering his arm again.

I tip-toed back into the room, seeing he was still asleep, and went to slip my shoes on. I turned my back to the bed and bent down to slip them on.

"Hey," He said, making me straighten up and turn in his direction. "Morning."

"Good morning," I said, not looking directly at him. It was weird. This was FDR and I'd slept with him. "You know if I was an ordinary girl, that would have scared the life out of me."

FDR sat up slightly, resting back on his elbows as I slipped on the other shoe I'd forgotten to put on when he distracted me by waking up.

"You're dressed. Where you going?"

"I have to go to work." I said, as I moved to my wardrobe and grabbed a leather jacket to put on over my dress.

FDR sat up properly, and I wasn't sure if I was disappointed or not that the sheet stayed in place over his lower body.

"I thought we'd make pancakes or something. I know you love pancakes." Franklin said, as he watched me put on the minimal make-up I always do.

"I do love pancakes. Really, I'd love to have pancakes. Who doesn't like pancakes? Crazy people." I said, screwing the lid onto my mascara and dropping it like it was hot lead back onto my vanity table, before I hopped up and tried to find the bag I'd left my car keys in.

"Crazy people." Franklin repeated.

"But I have to go to work. I have an early meeting with Collins. Like super early." I said, dropping to the floor and looking under my bed. I found it, grabbed it and rolled away and rose as gracefully as I could back onto my feet.

"What's the meeting about? Do I have to be there?" FDR questioned, about to climb out of bed. I stopped him quickly.

"No, no, no. Collins and I just have some things to discuss about the Heinrich case. You guys don't need to be there. I've got it handled," I lied, shrugging my jacket on, before I dug my keys out from my bag. Upon finding them, I dropped the bag to the floor and kicked it away. "So I've gotta go."

Franklin looked a little disappointed by that, and turned his gaze to the sheets pulled around his waist. I shook mental images of last night and earlier this morning out of my head, before I focused on him again.

"Yeah, yeah. Yeah, no, that's cool. Boss is calling. I get it. Okay." I felt like I'd wounded his ego or hurt his feelings or something so I quickly said something that might make it better.

"But last night was like…" I trailed off, not being able to find a suitable enough word, but FDR had one.

"Was incredible." He said, smiling this cute, dopey smile at me and gazing at me with those beautiful blue eyes, and it made me want to just crawl back into bed with him and say 'screw Collins', but I knew that I needed to go to this meeting. It was about my transfer to special ops and I couldn't miss it or Collins might tell me I can't.

"That was the best kind of crazy," I said, before it felt really awkward again. "So…thank you for the-"

"Thank you for that." Franklin replied, gesturing towards me.

"So, I'm gonna go. Just, um, lock up on your way out, if you could. You know the password for the security system and where the spare key is so…yeah. Bye." I said, grabbing my phone of my vanity table and quickly exiting my room and the apartment. As soon as I was in the elevator, I turned on my phone and called the first person I thought of to talk about what just happened.

_"Hello?"_

"Trish? It's me, Rachel, I slept with him." I whispered, though I'm not entirely sure why.

_"Oh, my God. Which one?"_ She asked.

"FDR."

_"Oh, my God, that's awesome. How do you feel? Can you walk?"_ Trish was a lot more invested in this than she let on. I still can't believe she only sleeps with Bob on a Wednesday. Just once a week.

"Small hands, not an issue." I replied, as the elevator came to a stop and I hurried out, speed-walking to my car.

_"I told you it wasn't going to be an issue!"_ She said, sounding too happy for me. _"How was it?"_

"It was amazing. Like five times amazing. But I don't know what to do. I'm supposed to go meet Tuck this afternoon. But after last night, I can't see Tuck now." I replied, all ready coming up with three plans to avoid Tuck at work.

_"No, no, they do it to us all the time, okay? You think Gloria Steinem got arrested and sat in a jail cell so you could act like a little bitch? I don't think so. You get out there, you get flexible._"

I paused as I sat in my car, slumping forward until my head rested against the steering wheel.

"I think I'm going to hell."

_"You're not going to hell. And if you go there, I'll be there to pick you up."_ Trish replied, making me laugh. I straightened up and leaned back in my chair, running a hand over my face.

"Okay, save me a drink." I said, before I hung up. I placed my phone into the holder I had for it on the dashboard, and adjusted my mirrors, realising that I had sex hair. I ran my hands through it but that only made it worse, so I just gave up, turned the car on and drove to headquarters.

"Boylee, have you got last night's surveillance tapes, please?" Tuck asked, as he walked into his recon room. Boyles walked towards him, and Tuck observed that he seemed nervous.

"Uh. We didn't get anything. We got nothing. The tape jammed, so…Ha, ha." Boyles attempted to lie, knowing it wasn't entirely convincing.

"Boylee, it's digital, you plank. Right. So can I have the disk?" Boyles could tell by the tone of his voice that Tuck wasn't asking. It was an order. He reached into his jacket, and pulled it out, but didn't place it in Tuck's waiting hand. He didn't really want his 'boss' to watch it.

"Seriously, you don't wanna see it." Boyles tried, but Tuck just snatched the DVD out of his hand.

"I'll be the judge of that, thank you very much. Now, did you see this?" Tuck questioned.

"Only once."

"Right. What happened?"

"Agent Foster entered the premises." Boyles replied, hoping he didn't have to really spell out what happened in detail.

"All right."

"Yep."

"And?" Tuck demanded.

"Ha, ha." Boyles laughed nervously, looking at the floor towards his feet as if he wished the ground to just swallow him whole to save him from this. He wasn't sure whether or not Tuck would kill him because of what he'd seen.

"Boylee." Tuck pressed.

"Ahem. Then he-"

"Boylee, what happened next?" Tuck demanded. The techie's nervous way of skirting around his question was beginning to piss him off.

"Then he entered the premises." Tuck waved the disc in his face, understanding the euphemism there and feeling infuriated.

"I got it, mate. Yeah, I totally understand. Thank you very much. Cheers, mate." Tuck said, throwing the DVD in a bin as he stormed out of the room.

Boyles sighed with relief, and his body relaxed as he realized that he wouldn't in fact have the absolute snot beaten out of him today at the hands of his angry superior.

"You have absolutely no self-control." Tuck scolded FDR, as they walked down a hallway at the CIA headquarters. FDR was about a step behind Tuck, because his partner was walking so damn fast. Tuck really was angry.

"Tuck, look, I didn't plan on this happening, okay? She's the one that initiated it in the first place." FDR said, in an attempt to defend himself. He felt guilty that he'd betrayed his best friend this way, and he was one hundred percent sure that Rachel felt the same. That's probably why he hadn't seen her since this morning. Her meeting with Collins couldn't have lasted this long. She was avoiding them both.

"Well, of course she initiated. You roll out the big, happy family, something that we both know that Rachel has always wanted, it's like girl porn, isn't it?" Tuck said, before he continued. "You broke the rules, man."

"Forget the rules. This is not a game anymore. I really care for Rachel." FDR argued.

"Great, you have affections. It only took you 30 years." Tuck seethed, still walking at a punishing pace.

"Tuck." FDR said, getting his friend to stop.

"What?"

"I slept with her." FDR said, as if that was news to Tuck.

"Yeah, well, I'm well aware of that, aren't I?" Tuck replied, walking away again.

"No, slept. Fell asleep. That's never happened to me before." FDR explained, before he jogged to catch up with Tuck, who was intent on leaving him and his pathetic excuses behind. Tuck headed to his desk, but his step faltered slightly when he saw Rachel at hers. He shook his head and sat down at his desk without saying a word. Something that the blonde woman picked up on.

She frowned, and tears pricked in her eyes, but she knew she deserved his silence, so she forced herself to get a grip. FDR wasn't too far behind him, and he gave her a smile before he sat down at his desk. The atmosphere was awkward and Rachel wanted to beat herself around the head with a bat, because it was her fault.

I sat at my desk, organising all of my paperwork into neat little piles, when Bothwick came with a few small boxes.

"Boss said you wanted these. Where do you want them?" He asked me.

"Yeah, uh, just drop on the floor here by me. Thanks, Bothwick." I instructed and he did as he was told, shooting me a smile and FDR a pointed look as he walked back the way he came.

"What are the boxes for?" FDR questioned, as I stood, stooping over to grab a box and place it on my desk. Tuck looked up at me, curious, but didn't say anything. I was supposed to go out with him this afternoon, and he was pretty much ignoring me. I hate myself.

"I am emptying my desk. I've been reassigned to solo operations." I answered, as I dumped all of my paperwork into the box, and then dropped it to the floor and picked up the next one.

Tuck and FDR both stared at me, in confusion mixed with horror, before they both exchanged a look, before climbing to their feet. They started to walk away before I stopped them.

"Where do you two think you're going?"

"We're going to talk to Collins, obviously." FDR answered.

"We'll get this sorted out, Rachel. Don't worry about it."

I chuckled at them, and said something that stopped them in their tracks. I wasn't done talking yet and they still tried to walk away from me.

"I asked for this, you know." I called to them, my words hitting their backs and forcing them to turn back. They walked right up to my desk and crossed their arms tight over their chests and stared at me with confused, but stern expressions.

"Why?" Tuck asked.

"Because we're not a team anymore," I explained, opening one of my desk drawers as I spoke and began to empty its contents into the box I had on my desk. "I was stupid enough to agree to dating both of you and to think that we could all come into work and for it to still be the same as it was. It's not. It won't ever be that way again."

"What are you talking about? We're still a team!" FDR protested, making me laugh.

"Who's been doing most of the work on the Heinrich case, huh, Franklin? You? Tuck? I never see you guys here anymore. I've been working my ass off trying to find this asshole, and you two are busy doing…whatever," I said, tossing a stapler into the box slightly more aggressively than I had mean to. I stopped packing and instead rested my hands on my hips. "What we're dealing with is difficult, I know that, and it was stupid of me to think that it wouldn't cause a distraction in our professional lives. But it has. I got shot because you two were both trying to play the alpha male. I had to intervene in an interrogation because you were squabbling. I need to come in to work and know the people around me have my back. I can't keep doing this job if I'm worried about my partners getting me killed. Solo ops is the way to go. I don't have to trust anyone but me."

"You don't trust us?" Tuck asked, looking slightly hurt.

"I trust you guys with my life, but I can't risk it. You're distracted with this whole thing. I'm distracted by it too. So I'm removing myself from the equation while we work this out. It's only temporary. Six months tops," I explained, my eyes flickering between the pair. "You don't have to like my decision, but I want you to respect it. It's the only one I've managed to make for the past few days."

They both nodded, and walked back to their desks, and slumped down into their chairs. I sighed and continued packing, deciding what was important and what I could leave. What I didn't take to my new office, I was leaving in my locked drawer. It was a combination lock so I knew that Franklin wouldn't be able to get in there. I grabbed a box, and whistled. An office boy looked up from his desk, and when he caught my gaze, he pointed at himself asking me if I had whistled at him. I rolled my eyes and gestured for him to come to me. He immediately jumped to his feet, and rushed towards me as though walking at a regular speed would result in him getting shot in the foot.

"Yes, ma'am?" The kid asked, standing in front of my desk with his back straight and his chest puffed out. I quirked an eyebrow at that, and then gestured with my head to the boxes on the floor.

"I need you to take those to my new office on the next level up. Bothwick will tell you where it is," I instructed him, with a sickly sweet, but clearly fake, smile. The kid looked like he was trying to convey confidence but looked like one harsh word would send him to the supply closet to have a nervous breakdown. I didn't really understand that, but he was the only office boy around. "Don't break or ruin anything and I'll tip you twenty bucks for your troubles. Oh, and don't call me ma'am."

He nodded enthusiastically and immediately went to work, while I lingered at my desk to observe him before he balanced three boxes on top of each other and slowly walked away. I watched him go, before I turned to talk to Tuck quickly. I sauntered over to his desk, and smiled at him slightly, guilt probably showing on my face.

"Are we, uh, we still going to get Joe after work?" I questioned, holding his gaze.

"Of course. And, Rach, I'm not mad at you, you know. It's not your fault that you're confused and don't know who to choose. It's probably our fault, love, so take your time, okay?" Tuck said softly, gracing me with a sweet smile that instantly soothed my fears and calmed my nerves.

"Thanks, Tuck. I'll meet you by your car later." I said, feeling slightly better about the whole situation. Tuck understood that I was confused and that I needed time. I also knew that while he said he wasn't mad at me, he was probably fuming at FDR. I technically initiated it, and it takes two to tango, but Tuck wouldn't see it that way.

I gave them both a small wave, and I almost walked away before I remembered something.

"Oh, guys, if you need any help on the Heinrich case, my password for my computer is pretty easy for you guys to guess. All my case notes and files are stored on there if you need them." I informed them, before I smiled again, and finally left.

Hopefully, I'd be able to come back sooner rather than later, but you never know, I might completely destroy our friendships and never return to the team.


	10. Chapter 10

Tuck and I stood outside Joe's school waiting to pick him up. It still felt a little awkward, but I tried to ignore it. Tuck didn't feel it obviously, because he was beaming at me like the sun was shining out of my ass or something. Kids started pouring out of the building and it didn't take us long to spot Joe, or for him to spot us.

"Hey, spudley, how you doing?" Tuck greeted his son. 'Spudley?' I thought to myself, as Joe stopped in front of us. "Come on, give us a cuddle."

Tuck bent down to his son's height and embraced him, before Joe pulled back and smiled at me.

"Do I get a cuddle, oh beloved godson?" I questioned, crouching down as Joe's small arms wrapped around me.

"What are you doing here, Auntie Rachel?" Joe asked me, as I released him and straightened up. The heels I was wearing would have had me toppling over if I had stayed crouched down for any longer.

"I was wondering if you and your dad had any plans for this afternoon, because my friend asked me to help her out today at her job and I think I may need a couple of helpers and I think you could be the men for the job." I grinned, as we started to head to Tuck's car.

"Yeah?" Joe asked.

"That sounds great," Tuck replied, opening Joe's door for him and closing it behind him. "What does she do?"

"Lauren is a product testing executive. She tests all these new products, sees which ones work more effectively and gives them the better recommendation. Plus, she gets to destroy stuff without the government telling her boss on her." I grinned at him, as we climbed into the car at the same time.

"So what do you need help with, Auntie Rach?" Joe asked.

"Well, my friend Lauren has to catch up on all this paperwork she needs to get done, so she asked me to come in and test some of products out for her." I explained to him, twisting round in my seat to face him.

"That doesn't sound fun." Joe replied.

"Just wait, Joe. We'll have fun, I promise."

Lauren ushered us to the testing area as soon as we arrived and handed me a wooden mallet and told me what stuff needed testing and how to do it. I smiled and shoved her in the direction of her office, telling her we'd get it done, and when Tuck's back was turned to us, she gave me a thumbs up, and mouthed 'he's so hot' before she rushed to her desk. I may or may not have threatened her with the mallet.

I placed a toy fire truck on the floor, and positioned Joe in front of it.

"Okay, Joe, here's what you've got to do," I said, handing him the small wooden mallet and stepping away. "Smash it to pieces."

"Really?" Joe asked, turning his head to stare at me in surprise.

"Really. Break it. Hit it as hard as you can. I think we're supposed to test how durable it is, so you need to hit it really hard. Got it, bud?"

Joe nodded, a giant, pleased grin on his face and turned back to the truck, lifting the mallet above his head and bringing it down, fast and hard, onto the truck. And, of course, it broke into two pieces and we all burst out laughing. Joe continued smashing it until we were certain that there was a definite design fault and I wrote it down to give to Lauren later.

Next we tested a popcorn machine. Well, Joe tested it and I stood back and watched as Tuck and his son messed around. The top kinda blew off and popcorn was flying everywhere, so Tuck grabbed Joe, lifted him into the air and spun him round in it. I laughed as I watched the interaction. Tuck rarely got to spend much time with Joe, because we were pretty much always on jobs overseas, so it was great to see them have some fun together as father and son. I almost felt like I was intruding on their time. Yet when Tuck or Joe would look at me, and grin, I felt like I could do that whole thing. The family thing.

When Tuck eventually put Joe down, we moved over to the next product, which was three different window cleaners. I sprayed them onto the fake windows, and then moved back, handing both Tuck and Joe a hose. We were all laughing as we hosed off the cleaner. Joe and I exchanged a look, and both turned towards Tuck, the spray cut off for a moment, and pointed our hose heads at him.

"Hands up." Joe ordered his dad.

"No." Tuck said, looking at us, but we ignored his protests and squeezed the triggers and soaked him.

It turned into an all-out water fight with Joe turning traitor on me and ganging up on me with Tuck, until I was standing in a sopping wet dress with my hair completely ruined. At least, I no longer had sex hair. I guess that was the bright side.

We shut off the hoses, and placed them down onto a counter and then we all stood there staring at each other.

"I think there's this giant stand-in dryer somewhere," I informed them, my eyes scanning the room until I found it. "Ah-ha! This way gentlemen!"

I grabbed Joe's hand and dragged him along behind me, with Tuck following us, to the giant dryer that looked like a standing tanning booth. I climbed into it with Joe and dragged Tuck in so we were all packed in together, and then turned it on.

About twenty minutes later, our clothes, bodies and hair was all bone dry. Though while we had stood in that contraption, Tuck kinda gazed at me with this heat filled, meaningful stare that made me went to melt into his arms and, if Joe hadn't been there, I probably would have.

Then we took Joe home. I waited in the car, but watched as Joe and Tuck hugged goodbye and Katie came out and stood just by her front door to welcome her son home. Tuck watched Joe practically trot over to his mother before he got back into the car.

"Dinner?" I asked him.

"We can go to that new Mexican place I've heard so much about." Tuck replied, grinning at me as he teased me about my one failed date with the woman trafficker named Arnold.

"Shut up," I said, punching him in the shoulder, laughing with him. "Actually there's this cool Thai restaurant that just opened downtown that I've heard good things about."

"Thai, it is."

Back at headquarters, FDR was fuming.

"He used the kid! He used the kid!" He ranted, pacing around his small recon room. Bothwick looked up at him, away from the monitors and smirked.

"Maybe we could get you a kid, sir. For a day. Pretend it's a big brother-little brother thing." Bothwick added the last part on, realising that Agent Simmonds knew that Agent Foster didn't have a kid himself. That he knew of. He'd heard all about Agent Foster's sexual escapades before he started this-whatever it was with Agent Simmonds, and for all anyone knew he could actually have fathered a kid somewhere.

"You know a guy?" FDR questioned, actually considering it.

"I know a guy." Bothwick replied.

FDR considered for another moment, before he shook his head.

"No." He looked at Bothwick again, as though he was reconsidering it, before he shook his head again and returned to watching his two best friends' date.

Tuck returned me to my place, but we didn't get out of the car right away. I turned round in my seat and smiled at him as I waited for him to speak.

"I had a really fantastic day today, thank you very much."

"So did I." I replied, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

"Goodnight." Tuck said, and I kissed his other cheek as he kissed mine. Except neither of us pulled away. Tuck's warm breath fanned my face and despite what happened between me and FDR the night before, I couldn't turn away from Tuck as our faces moved closer until our lips met. It was soft and slow at first, before the passion built up and it became rough and fast. I pulled away breathless.

"You should…um, you should come inside." I breathed, and he nodded furiously in agreement.

We both climbed out of the car, but as I closed the door behind me, Tuck pressed me up against the door as his mouth claimed mine. My hands ran up his chest until my fingertips brushed his collar, and then gripped it and pulled him even closer to me.

Tuck's hands gripped my waist as I pushed him away from me slightly, and broke our kiss so I could drag him inside. When we stepped into the elevator, Tuck spun me round to face him, backed me up into a wall, and kissed me hard. He lifted me up slightly, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking my ankles together. Our chests were flush against each other as our mouths moved as one. It was hot and passionate and brain-muddling.

A ding interrupted us, and Tuck tore his head away to see if we were on my floor. He placed me down onto my feet, and tugged me out of the elevator by my hand. I handed him my door key and he unlocked it, pulling me towards him, smashing his mouth onto mine and we stumbled backwards into my apartment with Tuck kicking the door closed behind us. We stepped back until I felt my ass brush my hallway end table, and then Tuck lifted me onto it. His lips moved away from mine, peppering kisses down my neck.

I was having a small panic attack, until I practically yanked his head until his mouth slanted across mine again, which evaporated my worries.

It was weird but Tuck practically moved us around my whole apartment, until we ended up on my 'dining room' table. I was breathless as Tuck scraped his teeth across the skin just under my ear and then kissed all the way down to my neck.

"Tuck, we need to talk," I said, pulling his face away from my body, but seeing him all hot and heavy and breathless and every bit as affected by me like I was him made me change my mind again. "In a little bit."

I kissed him again, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, as he carried me over to another wall and braced me against it. His lips trailed slow kisses across my cheek, jaw and neck, and I gripped the back of his shirt with one hand and attempted to find purchase on the wall behind me.

"This is so bad," I whispered to myself mostly. "But it feels so good."

I brought his lips back to mine, and our mouths moved almost feverishly against each other, making my brain virtually useless, as I didn't realize that we had moved until my back was pressed into my couch cushions and Tuck's warm body hovered over mine. Tuck pressed hot kisses against my throat, giving me time to come to my senses.

"Okay, Tuck." I said, taking my hands away from his face.

"Mm-hm?" He murmured against my skin.

"Tuck. Tuck, I'm sorry," I said, as I pushed us into an upright position. "I'm not this kind of girl."

"I know exactly what kind of girl you are, Rachel. And that's why I've completely fallen in love with you." Tuck said, his blue eyes seeping into mine and melting my heart into a useless mush.

Why did the British accent make that sound so much better? I caressed his cheek and pressed my lips to his softly. Tuck was in love with me and it enabled me to admit, not out loud but inwardly, that I loved him too. So I kissed him and showed him.

At headquarters, FDR was lamenting the loss of his bugs around Rachel's house. As he hypothetically stabbed FDR in the back, he had gone round her house and stomped on all of his bugs while he stuck his tongue down Rachel's throat. And now he had told Rachel that he was in love with her and FDR knew Rachel well enough to know that love was what she wanted.

FDR was angry at Tuck, slightly at Rachel, but also at himself. Maybe if he hadn't of slept with her first, Tuck would have honored their agreement himself, but now he was having sex with the woman that FDR loved too.

"Damn. I think that's the new British Invasion what just happened there, that's what that was." Bothwick said, as he stood, leaning against the desk, not having anything to do now that all the bugs were destroyed and all the monitors blank.

FDR didn't respond to the technician's words. He just sighed and put his head in his hands.

"I think I'm having a panic attack." I said, as I paced back and forth in Lauren's living room. Trish and Lauren were sitting on her couch, watching me as I freaked out.

"Just breathe. Breathe in and breathe out and come sit down." Lauren suggested, and I followed her instructions, taking deep breaths before plunking myself down in between her and our kooky, blonde friend.

"Do you think it's possible to love two people equally?" I questioned, my eyes flickering from side to side as I waited for one of my friends to answer me.

"Love, yes. Be in love, no." Lauren replied, and Trish nodded agreeing with her. I sighed, looking down at my hands before I asked my next question.

"What do you do when you don't know what to do?"

"I ask Bob." Trish replied, much to my surprise.

"Your husband, Bob?" I asked. I'd met Bob and he was not the brightest spark. Not the sharpest knife in the draw, if you catch my drift. In fact, Trish had once told me that he was about as useful as a chocolate spanner…she was going through this weird English Phrases phase at the time.

"'Bob' Bob?" Lauren questioned, backing me up, probably as surprised as me.

"Yeah. I mean, I know he's fat and ridiculous, but he's my fat and my ridiculous. And I like the way that I am with him," Trish answered, bring a smile to both mine and Lauren's faces. I did not know that Trish had this love-y dove-y side to her and it was nice. "Don't choose the better guy. Choose the guy that's gonna make you the better girl. Right?"

"Right." Lauren agreed.

And I thought about it for a moment, before I came to the conclusion. I knew who would make me the better girl.

At work the next day, I spent half of the morning deliberating whether or not to unpack my stuff. I mean, I had made up my mind, hadn't I? I knew who I wanted to be with, so I could just go back and work with the guys again. Yet at the same time, I didn't want to leave my new security blanket of independence. In solo ops I only had to rely on myself and my own skills and my own mind, not anybody else. And that's the way I used to be when I was a kid, bouncing around from home to home, with no friends and no one to rely on. Sometimes, despite how happy and grateful I am towards Nana and Grandpa Foster for practically saving me from the mess my life could have become, I still miss the independence I had.

I didn't unpack anything. Instead I slipped on my jacket, remembering to place the gun I always carry into an inside pocket and to drop an extra magazine into my boot, and left headquarters. I drove around for a while, before I stopped at the newest restaurant to open on Third. A waitress showed me to a table for two, asking me how long my guest was going to be. I told her I'd check, which was enough for her to walk away to serve someone else.

That's when I called him.

Tuck had just finished bickering with FDR, confirming that no matter who Rachel chose their friendship was over, when his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and smiled as Rachel's picture popped up onto the screen. He quickly answered it, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Rachel," He said, slightly louder for FDR's benefit. "How are you? Are you well?"

_"Hi. Oh, I'm pretty good."_

"Good." He said, as he sat down.

_"Are you busy?"_ She asked, already knowing he probably wasn't.

"No, no. I, uh, just finished some of my paperwork." He said, telling another white lie. His eyes trailed over to the small pile of papers that he had yet to complete.

_"Good. Do you know that new place on Third?_"

"Oh, I do! I do. I know it very well."

_"Great. I'm here now. Do you think you can meet me?"_

"I can be there in half an hour." Tuck answered her, smiling down the phone. She'd called him and wanted to see him.

_"Okay. I'll see you for lunch then."_

"That would be lovely."

_"All right, I'll see you there."_

"All right, my love."

_"Bye."_

"Bye."

Tuck hung up the phone, staring at FDR as the man watched him, his old friend's face tinged with barely concealed sadness.

"She called you." FDR said.

Tuck just stood, pulling his suit jacket off the back of his chair and grabbing his tie from a drawer in his desk.

"Gotta go, mate."

"Have to pack up anyway." FDR replied, very sullen, which was unusual for him. Tuck just walked away, saying nothing as he headed to a lunch date that could possibly make him a very happy man.

FDR watched Tuck leave, but turned his attention back to packing quickly. She had called Tuck. He would just have to live with her decision. He wasn't the guy she wanted after all. Well, at least she'd helped him be a better man. FDR could thank her for that much at least.

Once his desk was packed up, surprisingly filling only one box (Rachel's had filled about four, but maybe it's because she had so many souvenirs and goodies from all the places that they'd been stuffed away in her drawers), he headed to one of the recon rooms to collect the couple of things he'd left there.

"Lucky water bottle." He said, picking the object up and placing it into the box he'd placed on the desk. Dickerman was sitting in front of the monitors, and when FDR heard Tuck's voice, he looked up and spoke.

"What are you doing?" He questioned.

"Watching last night's surveillance video on Tuck and Rachel." Dickerman replied, not taking his eyes away from the screen.

"Time to close the books on that one, Dickerman. She got away," FDR said, placing the lid on his box of belongings. "All right, Dick, I'll see you when I see you."

He was about to walk away when he noticed something suspicious on the screen. Tuck's voice still ebbed into the room, but FDR's eyes trained in on something that was in the background, behind Tuck's car. He put the box back onto the desk and leaned in closer to Dickerman so he had a better view.

"Scroll back a second," He instructed the technician, who did as he was told. "Now zoom in."

"There?" Dickerman questioned, as he zoomed in on Tuck's car.

"No, no, on the background," FDR replied, and watched as Dickerman worked his magic, zooming in on a car across the street from Rachel's apartment building. "Freeze that and enhance."

Dickerman did as instructed and FDR waited until his suspicions were confirmed.

"That's Heinrich," He said, forgetting his belongings as he turned and raced out of the room. "He's here. I have to get to Tuck."

Rachel and Tuck were in danger, and FDR was the only one who could help them. If Tuck would still let him, that is.


	11. Chapter 11

Tuck and I were sitting next to each other, already having greeted each other and exchanged slightly awkward pleasantries.

"I'm really glad you called. I didn't expect you to. It was a surprise." Tuck said, and I felt bad.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah. Which is great, because you know I love surprises." I smiled at him, shaking my head.

"And you know how much I hate them. Usually, they turn out more bad than-oh, God," I cut myself off, as I spotted FDR walking towards us. I really didn't want to this conversation in front of both of them. This made it harder. "Hi."

"Hi." FDR replied, his eyes on me until Tuck stood up and they kind of squared off. My eyes flickered between them, until I stood myself. They both turned their heads to look at me, and I stuttered out an excuse to escape.

"Would you guys excuse me? Just a minute?" I questioned, stooping down to grab my purse and jacket, before I turned and started to ascend the staircase that leads to either the exit or the bathrooms. "Order me a drink! In a shot. I'll be right back."

I headed to the ladies room, and stood in front of a mirror, trying to stop a full scale panic attack before it happened to me. I breathed in deep, slow breaths, and when that didn't work, I tried to coach myself into being able to leave the bathroom and deal with the mess I had a part in creating.

"You can do this. You are a strong, confident woman, who can kick ass when it comes to dealing with conflict," I said to my reflection, before I felt slightly dizzy. "Oh, fuck, I'm gonna pass out. Sure, you can deal with twenty armed men with nothing but a semi-automatic and a length of rope, but you can't deal with your two best friends who are in love with you. That's pathetic."

I took another deep breath, realizing that insulting myself was not helping me at all, and started coaching myself again.

"Get out there. Tell them your decision. They have had moments of rationality before. They could stay friends if you worked hard enough to rebuild their relationship with them." I murmured to myself.

I was retouching my lip gloss when I heard a crash, which immediately sent alarm bells ringing in my head.

"Please, God, let that be an army of hungry vermin that are trying to overrun the restaurant and not Tuck and FDR killing each other. Please." I grabbed my stuff from beside the sink I was standing in front of.

I walked out of the bathroom and back to our table and my jaw dropped at the destruction I saw. And, slightly less surprising, Tuck and FDR lay in the middle of it. I guess God was busy today and didn't hear my plea for help.

"I should have killed you in Kandahar when I had the chance." FDR hisses at Tuck, pathetically tossing a fork in his direction.

"What? Were you having a laugh, mate?" Tuck asked. "I was the only thing that kept you alive in Kandahar, mate. Me and Rachel are your only friends. Rachel picked me. You lost."

Tuck groaned, as he turned to face FDR and I quickly spoke before they could continue their conversation.

"Lost?" I hissed, stepping down one more step so they could see. They both started stumbling over their words, but I continued. I was fueled by rage and hurt. "What was this? Some sort of bet? Some sort of game? To see who could get the girl first?"

"Let me explain." Tuck said, trying to get up onto his feet.

"No, let me explain."

"You've done enough, mate." Tuck replied.

"Rachel, listen-" FDR started before Tuck cut him off. I just stared at the two men coldly, waiting for some sort of pathetic apology or excuse or something, but the two assholes just carried on interrupting each other.

"Shut up."

"I trusted you." I said, staring at them both before I walked away, back up the stairs. I was going to get in my car, leave, head to headquarters, hand in my resignation, and move to a different country. I'm thinking Thailand. Or New Zealand. New Zealand is beautiful.

Tuck and FDR climbed to their feet, wincing and groaning as pain shot through them with each movement. FDR, who had momentarily forgotten why he'd even burst in on their date, was suddenly aware that Heinrich could easily take them both out right now.

"That was really classy, mate. Really good stuff," Tuck mocked, as he shook off shards of glass from his clothes. FDR saw a red spot appear on Tuck's jacket, and he looked up, trying to find it's origin. Tuck remained oblivious. "Don't talk to me, man. Don't you ever, ever talk to me again."

"Tuck," He pointed towards Tuck's chest, but Tuck slapped his hand away. FDR simply raised it again. "No, Tuck."

Several more red dots appeared on his chest, and on FDR's too.

"Hands up!" Someone ordered them, and as they were clearly outnumbered and would be shot faster than they could say "Rachel" if they tried anything, the two CIA agents raised the hands above their heads.

I unlocked my car, and tossed my purse onto the other seat before I climbed in and slammed the door behind me. I knew someone was in there with me immediately, but I knew it would be useless pretending I'd forgotten something and attempting an escape.

_"Guten Tag,_ Heinrich,_ wie schön, dich zu sehen_." I said, turning my rear view mirror so I could see his face. He smirked at me as he raised his gun towards me.

"Drive."

"You know if you wanted a ride somewhere, it's called a taxi, but as you're here, where to?" I asked, turning my car on and putting my seat belt on at the same time.

He gave me an address, and because I knew that he had his men collecting Tuck and FDR and would most likely have them take them to the same location, I went along with it, though I could have killed him by now.

I pulled into an abandoned warehouse, rolling my eyes as I did so. I mean, life threatening situation aside, have evil criminals given up hope for originality? It's always an abandoned warehouse! Shaking those thoughts out of my head, I climbed out of my car, frowning as one of Heinrich's henchmen stepped forward and patted me down, searching for weapons. Finding the gun I always have hidden under my clothes, they shoved me forward to a chair, and then tied my hands in front of me. He's an international criminal, but he still doesn't see me as a real threat because of my sex? Stupid mistake.

Two men with black sacks over their heads sat on chairs in front of me, and I assumed that they were Tuck and FDR. It was confirmed when they started bickering.

"I told you this would happen. You never listen to me." FDR hissed quietly at Tuck.

"You threw a knife at me." Tuck whispered back angrily.

"Guys, would you shut up?" I asked, speaking at a regular volume.

"Rachel?" They both questioned at the same time.

"No! It's the Easter Bunny! Of course, it's me, you idiots!" I growled at them, before I turned to Heinrich. "Heinrich, old buddy, during our car ride, I feel we bonded, so what do you say? Let us go?"

"You're a funny woman. And so pretty, but not enough to save your boyfriends. You all work for the CIA, did you really think that asking me was enough to change my mind?" He questioned, two men yanking the hoods off of Tuck and FDR's heads. They both blinked at the sudden light, but soon focused their eyes on me.

"No, but a girl's gotta try." I smiled grimly up at him.

"She didn't kill Jonas. She's got nothing to do with this." FDR said.

"Why don't you let her go? It's us you want, isn't it?" Tuck asked, and it was sweet that they were trying to save me, but I wasn't a damsel in distress. I didn't need two knights in shining armor to save me.

"No. It's only one of you I want. Jonas was not just my brother. He was my best friend. You took that from me. And I'm here today…to return the favor One of you will kill the other," Heinrich revealed, and my gaze flitted from Tuck to FDR and back. I tried not to show it but I was panicking. Heinrich leaned towards me so our faces were barely two inches apart. "You choose."

"What?" I whispered, realizing that my worst nightmare was just coming true. I had to choose, but this time it wasn't who I wanted to be with really. It's who I wanted to save.

"You choose who dies." Heinrich informed me.

"I can't do that."

"Well, if you can't, I have to kill all of you."

"Or just me," I countered. "I'm their best friend too. Kill me, and let them go."

"Rachel-" Tuck started to protest.

"Shut up, Tuck!" I hissed at him.

Heinrich scrutinized my face as I stared up at him, and he seemed to consider it, but still dashed my hopes.

"I wish to cause you all pain. You choose who dies. Now." He ordered, and I glared at him, looking away from him and back at Tuck and FDR, who were exchanging glances. They were formulating a plan, I could tell.

"I can't do that. Don't make me do that." I spat back at him.

"You have five seconds."

"Rachel!" FDR's voice brought my attention to him. "Pick me. Choose me."

Both him and Tuck kept trying to get my attention, but all I could hear was Heinrich's countdown booming in my head. It was like time had slowed down, and the only sound I could hear was a solitary ticking clock counting down to the death of someone I loved.

"Two." Heinrich said.

"Rachel, choose me."

"Everything will be fine, Rachel."

"One."

"FDR!" I shouted, with my brief moment of panic over. I worked out the plan the boys had made, or why FDR was so eager for me to choose him to die. It wasn't because all of a sudden Tuck and FDR had kissed and made up and FDR wanted to save his best friend.

"That wasn't so hard. If you didn't look so in pain, I would assume that you were heartless." He said, before he ordered his men , in German, to untie FDR and Tuck and to make them stand up.

I watched as Heinrich removed all the bullets from the magazine in his Glock, then he slowly stalked towards Tuck and handed him the gun. Tuck took it, glaring at Heinrich, as the German held up a bullet.

"It's just one bullet. Don't miss."

"Oh, I won't mate." Tuck replied, taking the bullet. I watched as Tuck placed the bullet into the firing chamber of the gun, and chambered the round, before aiming it at FDR. I moved my eyes to the man in question and he gazed back at me.

"I'm sorry." I said, quietly but loud enough for him to hear me.

"I love you." He mouthed to me, before nodding at Tuck. I watched Tuck's hand trembling, before he squeezed the trigger, and the gun fired. FDR fell to the ground and I let out a convincing scream.

"Bulls-eye." Heinrich announced, enjoying the whole thing way to much.

Tuck stared down the barrel of the gun a moment longer, at the seemingly dead body of his once best friend, before he lowered it.

"You two have a nice life together," Heinrich said to me, and I pretended to flinch at his words, before he turned to Tuck. "Keep the gun as a souvenir."

Tuck glanced at him, before he tossed the gun away from him. It landed near FDR's 'lifeless' body, and Heinrich frowned. He turned away and gave an order to one of his men as he stormed away, leaving us in the warehouse to be killed.

A henchman hit Tuck in the back with a shotgun, forcing him to his knees, and I gasped involuntarily. It was a hard blow. Without drawing attention to myself, I slowly reached down into my boot and pulled out the knife I kept there and began cutting away at the rope around my wrists.

"You made the right choice, Rach." Tuck said, a split second before FDR burst back into life and took three men down with the bullets from the extra mag he always keeps in his top left pocket. I jumped out of my seat, the rope falling away, and tossed my knife forward, not watching as it flew through the air and sunk into the chest of another of Heinrich's associates.

I rushed forward, falling into a cartwheel so I could grab a gun I spotted on the floor, and when I was upright, I shot two guys behind Tuck.

"Well, would you look at that? Gymnastics always comes in handy." I muttered to myself, before running behind a wall as Heinrich reappeared, firing at us. Tuck and FDR were right behind me, giving me covering fire.

We turned left and sped down a runway, occasionally one of us would turn and take down a guy that was following us. We ended up in a parking garage, and Tuck was pushing me towards the open top Jeep Wrangler.

"Jesus, Tuck, just hot-wire the thing and I'll worry about myself. God." I said, shoving him towards the driver's side and jumping into the passenger seat, twisting myself around so I was facing the entrance we just came through.

"Rach, just in case we die, I am really-"

"I don't want your apologies right now, FDR, just get in the damn car." I said, pulling out the magazine in my gun and tossing it away. I reached down into my left boot and plucked out the spare magazine I had put in there this morning. I pushed it in to the gun, and chambered a round into position.

FDR couldn't argue with me as two men appeared and fired at us, but he quickly took them out, and ran out of ammo in the process. He climbed onto the back of the Jeep, as Tuck started it, and pulled away. FDR leaned out of the car, and swiped a gun off of the floor, firing it at one of the guys who'd gotten up and tried to chase us with a wounded leg. It was mildly amusing actually, but I was too pumped full of adrenaline to actually laugh.

We got out onto the highway before I noticed two Chevrolet Suburban's on our six.

"We've started a conga, boys. Two black Chevrolet's on our six." I informed them.

"Rach, take the wheel." Tuck ordered me, and though I wanted to protest, I swapped places with him, with a little effort on my part to make sure our Jeep didn't spiral out of control, as he started firing at the incoming vehicles. Between him and FDR, they took out one and I watched it fade into the distance as the remaining one sped up.

"I missed you." FDR grinned at Tuck. I couldn't believe that I was seeing this out of the rear view mirror. Now? We were being chased by an international criminal hell and his goons who were hell bent on killing us and they were making up now?

"I know. I've missed you too." Tuck replied.

"I love you man."

"I love you too."

"We're back!" FDR practically shouted, and I stumbled onto a realisation.

"Oh, my God. I've become Yoko." I lamented, as the remaining car sped up alongside us. Tuck stood up in his seat, a tire iron in his grip, and smashed the window of the Chevrolet, sticking the tire iron in the steering wheel and spinning it around. With the driver unable to gain control in time, the car sped off the road and smashed into a cement column of an overpass. I watched, as it blew up in my rear view mirror, with a grin my face.

The grin was wiped off my face as another two Suburban's appeared, and forced me onto the 310 Freeway, which I'm pretty sure if incomplete. Well I assumed it was incomplete due to the fact I had to drive through an orange and white barrier.

I kept driving trying to figure out how much road was left, and not paying much attention to what the boys were doing behind me. I just heard gunfire and an explosion, and suddenly I could see the end. I braked hard, causing the Jeep to spin round once, before I gained control…just as we were about to go off the edge.

I gripped the steering wheel hard, as Tuck peeked over his door and noticed the steep drop I had just saved us from. We were all breathing heavily, and I was trying to catch mine back again, when FDR went on the offensive.

"I hope you can forgive Tuck, Rach. He's the best man I know."

"Bollocks, mate. The pair of you…you two belong to each other. You really do, you belong to each other." Tuck said, in reply, turning in his seat to address FDR. They were talking to each other as if I weren't there, but I was too busy trying to figure out if we'd killed Heinrich to scold them for it.

"Tuck! No, thank you, Tuck, but she's already made her choice." FDR replied, shaking his head.

"No. No, I didn't."

"You didn't?" They both questioned in unison.

"What?" FDR asked alone, while Tuck just repeated the question he had already asked.

"No, I mean, I did, but in light of everything, I'm even more-" The screeching tyres of an approaching car cut me off, and we all jumped out of the Jeep quickly, raising out guns as we stood waiting for the car to get closer. FDR and Tuck started firing at it, but their bullets just bounced off of Heinrich's car.

"It's bullet-proof," I told them, crouching down, aiming at the headlights and waiting for my shot. "The lights. Shoot the headlights. I remember Lauren telling me something about front-impact airbag deployment in models of this car after 2006."

Both guys listened to my lightening quick explanation and followed my lead, crouching and we all fired once, taking out both headlights. I stood, and watched as Heinrich was knocked out by his airbag, and the car lost control, hitting something that was in the road. The engine exploded and the car flipped over, heading towards us like a fiery wrecking ball.

Tuck and FDR ran to either side of me, and furiously gestured for me to go to them. I kept looking back and forth between the two, and then at the car as it careened towards me. Time had slowed down again and I could hear my heart thumping in my chest as the car got ever closer and I dived out of the way.

I kept my eyes closed tight as arms wrapped themselves around my waist and tucked me under a warm body to protect me from any falling debris as the car flew over us. I had moved in the nick of time, and narrowly missed being squashed to death.

I heard the loud explosion as the car and our Jeep impacted with the freeway below, and I sighed, sitting up and looking into blue eyes that were scanning my face to see if I was in pain.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I said, breathing hard and trying to forget that I had the most cliché movie moment and saw my whole life flash before my eyes before I had dived out of the way of my probable death.

"Good." FDR replied, cupping my cheeks with both of his hands.

"I'm okay." I felt like I could sing. I had just narrowly avoided death and was now in the arms of a gorgeous man I was in love with.

I stared into FDR's eyes for a beat longer, before I turned to face Tuck, an apologetic expression residing on my face. He nodded at me slightly, before he climbed to his feet.

"Yeah, alright, get a room."

That's when we all heard the news helicopter flying above us. This was going to be hard to explain away.

Tuck's son, Joe, and his mom, Katie, were sat in the front room of their house watching the news avidly. Katie's jaw was practically hitting the floor, but her son had a small grin on his face.

"I don't think he's a travel agent." He said excitedly, as his mom shook her head, and pulled him to her.

No, she thought, he certainly wasn't a travel agent.

We were now surrounded by ambulances and fire engines. Tuck and FDR had made sure I was seen to by a paramedic first, though I don't know why. All I was experiencing was cuts and bruises, and those would heal quickly. I was even given a warm blanket to drape around my shoulders.

Tuck was sitting in the back of an ambulance, and I left FDR's side to go and talk to him. As I approached, he stood up and kissed me on the cheek, before he pulled back.

"I was gonna tell you. That's why I asked you out."

"Yeah, it's okay. Um…it's good. It's good. I understand." Tuck said, smiling at me.

"You'll always be my best friend and partner, Tuck. That won't change," I replied, holding his hand and squeezing it tight. "And you'll always be my favourite British guy. No matter how many Pierce Brosnan movies I watch."

That made him chuckle and brought a smile to my face.

"You should probably call Joe and Katie. They're probably watching on this on the news as we speak." I told him, gesturing at all the mayhem that we were surrounded with.

"I should-I should probably head off." Tuck replied.

"Okay. Tell them I said hi."

"Will do." Tuck gave me a small smile, before he started to walk away, but was stopped by FDR calling his name. I smiled at Franklin as he jogged past me, and I stepped further away from them so I wouldn't be tempted to eavesdrop.

A grin spread across my face as they hugged, and separated, with Tuck walking away and FDR sauntering over to me.

"So…" Franklin said, as he pulled me towards him.

"So when I added it all up and I crunched all the numbers, it was a-" I started to explain why I'd picked him, but he cut me off by shushing me.

"No more thinking." He said, before he kissed me. I smiled into the kiss, before we both pulled away a moment later.

I smiled up at him and shook my head.

"You're gonna make me regret this, aren't you, Franklin?" I questioned, gazing at those beautiful blues.

"For the rest of your life." FDR replied, and I pressed my lips to his, dropping the blanket around me as I wrapped my arms round the back of his neck and pressed my body against his.

This was the perfect kiss, the perfect ending and I figured that I wouldn't regret my decision. I loved both of my best friend's, but I guess I'd always been in love with FDR. My heart just didn't figure it out fast enough.

_A few months later…_

FDR and Tuck were getting ready to jump out of a plane, to quite literally drop in on a meeting of a couple of international drug lords, when FDR's phone rang. Tuck glanced at his partner as he answered, knowing who the caller would be, before he focused his attention back on to securing his parachute.

"Hello?" FDR shouted down the phone, trying to be heard above the noise of the plane's engines.

"_Hey babe! I just thought I'd call and thank you for leaving me here at Nana's while you go off and do what we love to do_." Rachel's voice sounded very sarcastic down the phone and brought a grin to FDR's face.

"Hey, it's not my fault that you're benched from field duty!"

_"I'm two months pregnant. Technically, it's partly your fault, genius._"

"Hey, it's the contraception company's fault! Who makes a product that's only 97% effective?" FDR argued.

_"I know, babe. Anyway, Nana wants me to remind you about dinner tomorrow night. Don't forget to tell Tuck to bring Katie and Joe._" Rachel reminded him. FDR grinned as he remembered that Tuck had gotten back together with his ex-wife and had his small family back. It made him feel less guilty for the fact Rachel chose him. FDR turned round to face his partner-in-justice, pointing a finger at him.

"Nana's tomorrow night, huh?" FDR asked him.

"That's not Nana you're talking to, is it?" Tuck asked.

"No, no."

_"Did you tell him yet? You begged me not to tell him so you could, and I just told Nana, so you keep up your end of the bargain. You got out easy, baby, believe me. Nana is now going bat-crap crazy over her future great-grandbaby._" Rachel said, and FDR could hear his nana's voice in the background, scolding Rachel for being rude, and hearing Rachel protesting that clubbing her with a rolling pin would harm her unborn child.

"I'm just about to." FDR replied.

"_Good luck_." Rachel teased him, knowing he was slightly nervous about telling Tuck.

"I love you, baby."

_"I love you, baby._" She replied, and FDR could picture the smile on her face as she said those words that he loved hearing.

"Bye." FDR said, before hanging up. He couldn't be anymore in love with Rachel Simmonds than he was now. They'd moved in together about a month after she had chosen him that day on that incomplete freeway, and now she was pregnant with his kid. FDR Foster was going to be a father, and he couldn't be any happier.

FDR walked over to Tuck, and his partner immediately started safety checks on his parachute.

"Brother." FDR said, getting Tuck's attention.

"Yo."

"Rachel and I are having a baby." He said, deciding to be blunt about it.

"Yeah?" Tuck shouted, happily. Although he had loved Rachel a lot, he was very happy with Katie now. It was better than the first time, and he loved that he had his family back. He and Joe spent more time together and everything was looking better.

"Will you be his or her godfather?" FDR questioned, and Tuck's loud, happy sound of agreement almost deafened him, but he joined in because it was exciting news. The gangway lowered which meant it was time for them to jump.

"Jump run!"

"Hey, you're good." Tuck told him

"I know it's a little awkward with you having slept with Rachel and everything, but I just think it's poetic justice, right?" FDR said, quickly checking Tuck's gear before he moved to the open hatch.

"What is?"

"Well, I've been meaning to tell you this for a while, but I slept with Katie. Once. Long time ago. Before you guys even knew each other." FDR informed him, trying to explain it in a way that Tuck might not get mad at him.

"You slept with my wife?" Tuck questioned.

"She wasn't your wife. You didn't know her." FDR argued, seeing that Tuck was a little angry about it, which he hadn't actually expected.

"You slept with my wife?" Tuck repeated, outraged that his best friend had done that and then kept it a secret for years.

"It was a long time ago, man."

"But I never even slept with Rachel!" Tuck shouted.

"What?" FDR asked, feeling confused.

"I never slept with Rachel! No, I only let you think that, right? Think that, to make you jealous." Tuck explained, angrily pointing to his head to gesture 'think' as he spoke the words. FDR looked stunned. He hadn't even asked Rachel if she and Tuck had slept together, he just assumed it was better not asking. She'd probably kill him for asking.

"You never slept with Rachel?" FDR questioned.

"You slept with my wife!" Tuck yelled, launching himself at his partner.

Both Tuck and FDR fell backwards out of the plane, with FDR trying to push his best friend off of him so they could eventually pull their chutes and not fall to their deaths.

I sat in the living room at Nana's. After I'd finished helping Nana in the kitchen, I came in here to sit and contemplate. Franklin and I were starting a family. Of course, we had messed the order up a little. You're supposed to date, move in, get married and then have children…but where's the harm in a little originality? But, in spite of how happy I was with my life now, with FDR, my job, our 12 year old dog with the milky eye and now our unborn child, I still felt incomplete.

I pulled the slightly crumpled picture of me and my potential mother out of my purse and stared at it. Who was this woman really? And if she was my mother, why did she leave me? Especially with my father who had no parental instinct at all and preferred to use his daughter as a foot rest or punching bag than to love and support her.

I just didn't understand how a woman could carry a child within her for nine months, give birth to a beautiful daughter and not love her enough to stay. I couldn't imagine doing that to my own baby, and I wouldn't. I couldn't let my baby grow up without a mother like I had. Yet, I don't think I'd ever be able to get over what my own mother had done and make sure I could correct the mistakes of the past, without finding her and finding out the truth.

"What are you planning, young lady?" Nana asked me, sitting down next to me and placing a cup of tea on the coffee table in front of me.

"I'm not planning anything, Nana," I said, placing the photo back in my purse, and staring at the tea. "That is not coffee."

"You can't drink coffee anymore, dear. Now don't try and change the subject. What are you planning?" She questioned, raising a small, thin, grey eyebrow at me as she waited for a truthful reply, which, after I sighed and inwardly debated with myself, she received.

"I want to find my mother. I don't think I can ever be one hundred percent happy without knowing the truth." I explained to her.

"If that's what you need to do, sweetheart, that's what you need to do. Now, let's talk baby names."

I grinned at Nana, shaking my head. I was going to find my mother and then I'd be a better mother and wife than she ever was, I vowed, as I listened to Nana list names she thought were adorable.

Little did I know that finding my mother would be a lot more difficult than I anticipated.

_This is the end, my friends. But once I am done with my exams, I may write a sequel to this if there is enough want for one, called 'Damaged History' which basically follows Rachel as she looks for her mother, which involves diving back into her childhood and trying to unlock the secrets buried within her past. FDR and Tuck, ever the loyal best friends and partners, will, of course, be there to help her and protect her now that she's pregnant :)_

_Did you guys like that twist? I didn't want to follow the movie's ending that closely so I changed that aspect of it._

_Well, thank you for reading 'Collateral Damage', I hoped you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)_


	12. AN Please Read and Respond!

A/N

Hi guys!

Just to let you know that I've been editing this story. Now it's much longer, and hopefully better. I've yet to decide whether or not to switch up the ending, because I'm not sure I like the whole pregnancy thing, but if you guys like it, it stays, if not, then I'll change it.

I'm also working on the sequel, "Damaging History", this summer and that will hopefully be posted soon. Let me know what you think of a sequel and what you want to see in it, and if I like what you suggest then I'll make sure to incorporate your ideas!

You guys are awesome and thank you for following and favoring this story! It means a lot.

Anyway, lots of love,

Sophie.


End file.
